Slack Jawed And Broken
by MrsRoy
Summary: Elliot and Olivia are forced to deal with a loss that may well facilitate the end of their relationship.    Warning for adult concepts, read at your own risk. EO, Paternity AU.
1. Prologue

**I don't own them, I just share.**

* * *

**She falls like a blizzard, caught up in the trappings of snow, like a vice with a wayward call; the end always seems to resemble darkness. The journey beyond is long, treacherous; it begins like the shedding of light over a small village plagued with disease. **

**She wonders when she lost herself, how she came to be in this God forsaken place of the broken, longing for release.**

_**She's in the bottom of the tub, her eyes, scrunched shut, the world no longer exists. A shadow looms over her, like a thief in the night; he comes to take her away, to assist her escape with his broad hands and firm shoulders. **_

_**He's like relief on a hot day, the chill that aches her bones, the steady thrum of ice in her veins. **_

**When she opens her eyes, Elliot is gone, and so is her child, **_**their child, **_**a stark reminder.**

**

* * *

**

**He battles his demons with booze and demands, like a thousand knives stabbing, he still falls weak at the knees. She was all he had, now, he doesn't even have that. **

**He's baron, like a day without night, he lays by himself, caught up in the vestiges of all that is holy, he has no life to speak of, just a wasted dream and a bad hangover in the morning. **

**She'd trusted him, and he took her for granted, he took her life, though he owes her nothing.**

**He absconds when the tide is high, knowing eyes always watching, like a fool though, he knows no better. Tomorrow is just another test of will. **

**Four of them, healthy, but the one that he can't have plays on his mind.**

**He tosses, turning when it all becomes too much and the world has shunned him. Those dark eyes are familiar, and it kills him. His son is gone, all too soon.**

**His days are too long, his nights are unbearable, because he replays the 'what-if's' over and over, like a record stuck on rewind. **

**He'll never get over it.**

**

* * *

**

**The blanket she holds is embroidered with pale blue fleece. It bears the name – Michael Stabler. She wants so desperately to toss it away, just to cast it aside with the rest of the trash, but besides the small memorial plaque that indicates her sons last resting place, she has nothing else, just the memory of days past. Most of them are painful, there are a few, however, that don't hurt to dwell on.**

**She hasn't seen Elliot in weeks. Caught up in his own grief, he's been little comfort when she's needed him most. She thinks that if she continues to tell herself that it's going to be alright, it might actually be okay, she might be able to fool herself into reality.**

**Elliot's kids came by the other day, but she couldn't think of anything to say. So she stood there and watched while Kathleen cried, while Elizabeth stared at the spot on the wall, and Richard held his baby sister, their intuition as strong as ever.**

"**We're sorry, Liv," Kathleen choked. "He ... You guys don't deserve this. He was our little brother."**

**She still didn't know what to say, so she nodded her head and pleaded with her eyes for them to leave her the hell alone with her misery.**

"**We love you, Liv," Elizabeth offered, "We miss him too, I wish he was here."**

"**Dad misses you," Richard had said, "He blames himself. This is really hard for him."**

"**Good," she spoke absently, "I blame your father for all of this." She lifted her head. "I really want to be alone now. I'm sure you can find the door."**

"**Liv, I know you're upset, but you don't have to be rude," Kathleen answered. **

**Olivia had pointed to the door, "There's the door, just go. All of you."**

**The children stared in disbelief.**

"**Now," Olivia screamed.**

**In retrospect, she realizes that she may have been a little harsh. They were just trying to make her feel better; they were just mourning their brother. But that was part of the problem.**

**At fourteen weeks, the best the obstetrician could give her was a maybe. **_**Maybe.**_** It might have been a little boy, in all likelihood he'd told them.**

**She'd watched Elliot's eyes glaze over, the disappointment was plain to see, and she couldn't bear to be around him, she couldn't even give him a son, just a God damn –'Your guess is as good as mine.'**

**Elliot deserved better than that.**

**She remembers telling him to go back to his wife, the one he'd divorced just months beforehand. The wife who had to hold her hand as the EMT had informed her that she was probably just miscarrying. **

**By the time Fin had been able to air lift Elliot to the hospital, it was already too late. Her baby was gone, purged from her womb by the forces of nature. **

**He'd begged her to have the ultrasound that they'd advised, pleaded with her to let the doctor treat her symptoms. But she refused, wrapping her arms around herself, and sitting in silence. She wanted to hold on to the chance that her baby was still alive. She wanted to open her eyes to the possibility that he would still be there, that this was nothing more than a dream.**

**It wasn't.**

**Kathy had driven Olivia to her appointment that day, Kathy had swerved to miss a drunk driver, Kathy had to be the only person there when Olivia needed a hand. In Olivia's mind, that wasn't good enough. That wasn't acceptable.**

**It should have been Elliot. He should have been there. Cupping her face and smoothing her hair back. It wasn't the same, it wasn't what she wanted, and she'd never forgive him for that.**

"**Go home, Elliot," she'd told him continually. "Go home to your children."**

**He'd protested, telling her that she wasn't in her right mind; she was just filtering out the pain, flipping through the stages, just trying to cope.**

"**It was my baby too," he'd told her, time and time again. But she was having none of it.**

"**Where were you Elliot? You weren't here, you left me with Kathy. It should have been you," she cried.**

**He couldn't lie to her; he had no excuse for her this time. Put simply, he'd let her down, he'd let his son down and he'd pay for it with the rest of his life. His heart had been shattered, his soul, destroyed. His life as he knew it was utterly pointless. The Lord had forsaken him; karma had stricken him, an affliction not even worthy of death. He had to suffer. He had to live on in the absence of his youngest.**

**It made life insufferable.**

**He left the hospital room, headed for the chapel. He'd known he wouldn't find peace, he'd doubted he'd even find peace of mind, but he needed a sanctuary, a place that he could break the facade without fear of judgment. **

**May the Lord bless him and keep him, **_**may the Lord bless and keep his eternal son.**_

**Olivia blinks, trying to rid herself of the tears that continue to fall. It's useless, utterly useless.**

**Her cervix is weak, her son is gone, and any chance she'd ever have, any hope that she'd ever held onto is gone. She'll never be a mother; she'll never have to wonder if she's doing the right thing, if her son resents her. She'll never feel his small arms around her leg, his big blue eyes shining brightly. She'll never get to hear him say 'I love you mommy.'**

**The acid in her gut burns as it lathes her throat. The meager contents of her stomach magnify the effects of the bile as she chokes on her own vomit. It's vile, but she doesn't care. **

**For a while, just for a moment, the taste in her mouth numbs the pain before she expels the waste. **

**She marvels aftwards, at the fact that her body so readily rejects.**

**She's used to being useless, foreign. She accepted a long time ago that she was never meant for this world,the product of rape, born to an alcoholic mother who beat her. Her life was seemingly mapped out from the beginning.**

**The medication in her hand is prescription. Percocet, for the pain of muscle spasms and back ache she's been experiencing for a while now.**

**At first it's just one, maybe two to help with the discomfort. Before she knows it, four become six just to calm her down and three quarters of the bottle are gone.**

**She doesn't really give a damn, because Elliot has four kids, all of them healthy. Olivia has nothing.**


	2. Chapter 1

**I don't own them, I just share.**

* * *

**He sucks on the bottle again, and the whiskey burns, but that's the way he likes it. Bitter, just like he is.**

**He scratches his chin, the stubbly beard is beginning to irritate him, but the truth is that he just doesn't trust himself with the razor anymore.**

**His hands shake all of the time, and when they're not shaking, he wishes that they would, that maybe his hand would just slip and he'd nick himself, clean cut, he'd bleed out in seconds, just like Olivia had when she'd lost their son.**

**He'd sacrifice himself for the sake of his boy. He'd make the decision every single time, and it's always the same.**

**Christ, he wonders what he's done. He loves her, is completely in love with her, he needs her like he needs a limb, he aches without her.**

**He's heard stories of war, of torment and tragedy, of losing your best friend. He works with offenders that sometimes make him sick to his stomach, but in the big scheme of things, this doesn't even come close to the way that he's feeling.**

**He's empty, he feels betrayed, isolated, robbed of everything that ever meant something. He's not sure he'll ever heal.**

**Elliot scolds himself again for feeling sorry, he can't allow such emotion when Olivia has lost everything. He knows that this is his fault, and he must repent, so sayest the Lord.**

**He flips through the television channels, trying to find something that will put his mind at ease. He has a hard time concentrating, but re-runs of Dallas seem to catch his attention long enough to ensure a few moments grace. He wonders how his children are and makes a mental note to call them. After he's used up his moment of sanity, he goes back to trying to figure out who shot J.R.**

**His cell vibrates, moving across the coffee table in front of him, so he reaches for the phone, flipping the top and croaking into the receiver.**

"**Stabler."**

"**Elliot, it's your boss. Am I interrupting drink time? Good. Munch needs you back here, so drink some water and get your ass moving son."**

"**Yeah, be right there," Elliot mutters, shifting from his position on the couch. He can't drive, he doesn't really want to at the moment. Since Olivia took medical leave, he feels so alone. He supposes he deserves that. **

**He hails a cab and crumples reluctantly onto the back seat.**

"**Where you headed buddy?" The cabby asks, checking out the disheveled man in his rear vision mirror.**

"**New York City Police Department, Manhattan," Elliot mutters. "Sixteenth precinct."**

"**You a cop?" The other man asks nervously.**

**Elliot un-clips his badge and lifts it to the bumbling man's scrutiny, his face ernestly presenting a mask of subtle rage. **"**This good enough for you? Can we go now, before I have you arrested for obstruction?"**

**

* * *

**

**Elliot arrives semi-sober and makes a bee line for the coffee machine. He scrubs a hand across his face and promises himself the luxury of a shave in the morning. He likes to think that Olivia would want him to take care of himself. **

**It would really only be fair for her to cut his heart out at the moment.**

"**Hey, Elliot. You seen Liv lately?" Munch asks as he mossies on by, watching as Elliot stirs his liquid courage. **

**Elliot swallows thickly. They all consider Olivia a sister, which makes him the bad guy, any way you look at the situation.**

"**No. Haven't spoken to her since ..." He hesitates. "Since ... you know." **

**He doesn't like to say the word that makes it all seem so real. Because sometimes, he asks himself if any of this is real. He wonders if he really could have made a difference. He wonders if his son will ever forgive him, because he knows that there's no way Olivia ever will.**

"**Maybe I'll go pay her a visit some time, see how she's doing," Munch answers.**

"**I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture, John."**

"**Give her time, Stabler. She's been through a lot."**

**Elliot nods, unable to reconcile his feelings at the moment, up until now he hasn't spoken about the whole situation.**

"**She'll be fine," John assures him. "She's Benson, she'll get through this."**

"**Hope you're right," Elliot looks into the depths of his mug, searching for answers he just can't seem to find.**

"**Elliot." The Captain calls from the door of his office, his voice carrying across the room. "Have you seen psych yet?" He asks upon Elliot's approach.**

"**Cap, I'm fine. I'm dealing."**

**Don shakes his head and hitches his thumb up over his shoulder.** "**Huang, today. I'll make the call. It's that, or you take leave too. Hear me?"**

"**Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."**

"**Elliot," He calls before his best detective can vacate his company. "How's Olivia?"**

**Elliot shakes his head. The question is not new; he's been experiencing it for weeks now. But it seems to come as a surprise more often that he can't even find the words to explain.**

"**Honestly? I have no idea. She cut me off. The kids say she's okay, but you know Olivia."**

**Don clamps his hand down on Elliot's broad shoulder, and it feels like the world just got a little heavier, a little harder to carry.**

"**I know I've said this before, but I'm sorry for your loss. If you need anything ... I know how much you wanted hi ..."**

**Elliot folds his arms tightly across his chest, his body stance, now defensive.**

"**Don't. Please. We both wanted him."**

**Don nods, what more can he do. There are no words to ease the pain. He has to support Elliot and Olivia, his most successful partnership, fallen to pieces. Maybe he should have seen the signs sooner. **

**He battles his consciousness, he can't bring back Michael, but perhaps, he can find away to put the pieces back together, to balance the sway. If he can resurrect Benson and Stabler, hopefully, he can bring back the magic.**

"**Go on, get out of my sight."**

**Cragen watches Elliot leave, his face drawn and weathered, his features forlorn. He decides that if he's going to take matters into his own hands, he has to act now. He'll be sending the good doctor out for a home visit today.**

**Back in his office, he picks up the phone, staring down at the numbers and shakes his head. He can't even begin to imagine what Elliot and Olivia have been through, what Olivia is experiencing. He knows that this one goes over his head, beyond his realm of recognition. It's no longer within his control.**

**

* * *

**

"**Captain Cragen?" The voice on the end of the line gently prompts."**

"**Sorry Doc, I was thinking. What were you saying?"**

"**I said that sometimes, there's nothing you can say to make it better. I'm afraid this is one of those times. I can see Olivia today, I have time."**

**Don scratches his head and places his hand upon the table, leaning into his weight for support.**

"**Elliot's putting on a brave face for Olivia's sake. If the stench of alcohol is anything to go by, I'd say he's not coping well at all."**

"**I'll talk to them both, to see what I can establish."**

"**I appreciate it Doc."**

"**If you're expecting a positive outcome, they're going to need the support of the precinct. It's not going to be easy for them."**

**Another problem to add to the tally, another issue that could have been prevented, Don thinks.**

"**Whatever you need. You have my co-operation Doctor Huang."**

"**Olivia is likely to be volatile," He continues, trying to offer up layman's terms. "it's not going to be easy. Elliot's instinct is to protect her. In his eyes, she's perfect. Even when she's broken, he doesn't foresee a problem. He'll try to take on her pain in the hope that it helps her, irrespective of how she feels. He blames himself for what happened."**

"**Wait a minute," Don tries to think back to that day, "I thought the doctor told Elliot that there was no way to have prevented the miscarriage."**

**On the end of the line, the doctor shakes his head, mostly out of habit.**

"**Nobody knows Olivia the way that Elliot does. It's his way of coping. He's trying to establish some sense of normalcy. He believes that if he takes on Olivia's pain, she'll be able to deal with the situation. In reality, his mind is trying to find a way to deal with his own inadequacy. He'll burn himself out eventually."**

"**I hope you're right Doc. We both know what Elliot is like when it comes to his partner."**

**There's a slight pause before the other man speaks. The two are fine detectives, and they're headed into dangerous territory here, the likes of which could spell the end for two career orientated people. **

"**They've been together a long time Don. They're co-dependent, and now, they share a bereavement which is a great source of anguish. They're not going to heal quickly."**

**Don sighs. He's weary, getting too old for this kind of commotion. **

"**I know how badly Olivia wants to be a mother. It's a lot for her to have to deal with. I don't have kids, but it can't be easy having to look at Elliot's brood all the time."**

"**Olivia is a strong woman. She'll adapt. Its Elliot behavior I'm worried about. He's not allowing himself the chance to grieve his loss."**

**It seems so unfair, that the two strongest must succumb to such weakness. **

"**Elliot's not one to show emotion Doc. Got any ideas?"**

"**I'm afraid," he says to the older man, with all the conviction he can muster, "that this is something that has to come from Elliot. Ultimately, it has to be his decision."**


	3. Chapter 2

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

"**Where is she?" Elliot paces the corridor in the emergency department, throwing his hands onto his head and marching like a regimental soldier. "Why wasn't I told? The hospital had to call me, I'm still her next of kin," Elliot spits at his captain.**

"**Elliot, calm down before you go off half cocked and cause more damage."**

_**Damage.**_

**The word hits Elliot like a tonne of bricks. Reluctantly, he replays the sentence. 'Cause more damage.'**

**Elliot flops into the hard plastic chair beside Cragen and studies his knuckles, scarred by his own selfish attitude. He remembers when the skin was torn and bleeding. Somehow, it doesn't even seem like enough pain.**

"**How is she?" He asks, calmly this time.**

"**There's been no word. I'm still waiting for Huang to give me an update."**

"**I should have known," Elliot speaks into his hands, "I should have seen this coming. I should have done something to help. All she wanted was that baby."**

"**Elliot, you can't blame yourself. These things happen. That accident had nothing to do with you."**

"**I was busy," he scowls, well aware that it was work that had kept him away that day. "I had to ask Kathy to pick her up, she was expecting me. If she had left on time, she never would have been in that accident. So don't sit there and tell me that it's not my damn fault."**

**The conversation is temporarily interrupted by the return of the doctor, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he walks with his head held high. The closer he gets, the harder Elliot balls up his fists in disgust.**

"**She's resting," He tells them.**

"**What happened?" Elliot asks.**

"**She overdosed." Huang chances a look Elliot. His jaw is set, his expression utterly hopeless, disbelieving. "It was prescription medication."**

"**She tried to kill herself?"**

**George shakes his head. "No. I don't think so. Not from what she's been able to tell me. I think that given her state, she just wanted to be numb. I don't think she made a conscience decision to end her life, she has no recollection of what happened."**

"**So she's got amnesia or something?" Elliot asks curiously, always the detective, always probing.**

"**No, Elliot. She's been trying to block out the pain that she's feeling. Right now, she's not thinking about how she accomplishes that, just the fact that it happens."**

"**Can I see her?"**

"**You can look in on her, but she doesn't want to see you Elliot. I know this is hard for you to accept, but ..."**

"**No. It's okay. I get it." Elliot holds up his hands in defeat, like he waves the white flag.**

**

* * *

**

**He watches her through the window, through the shade left undrawn. She's silent, and she seems so vacant, like somebody has squandered his Olivia and brought her back empty and broken. She looks wounded, pained even, as she sleeps with the waffle blanket tucked up under her chin. Her hair is tied neatly, and pulled back from her face. She looks tired, and he hangs his head in shame. **

**He should have known.**

**He wants to touch her, to hold her in his arms and cradle her head upon his chest like he's done before. He wants her to feel the life beating within, to know that even for the briefest of time; their child was sustained by his lifeblood and he'd do whatever he could to give that back to her.**

**He wants to make her a mother, but he can't replace his son. **

**She needs time. She just needs time. He tries to assure himself.**

**Olivia shifts in the bed, her face contorting in agony he knows he is the cause of. She whimpers through the obvious nightmare, her body reacting to the pain. His own body aches to comfort her, to allow her the knowledge that he too bleeds. That on the outside he's hard, his body is built, but on the inside, he's just a man.**

**A nurse checking on Olivia's vitals draws the pale blue privacy screen around her bed and she is suddenly obscured from his view. **

**The guilt gnaws on his gut like blind determination. Once again, she is just out of reach.**

**He tries to breathe; he inhales to set his lungs full of life. His chest gathers like a chasm, his heart beats faster and his palms begin to sweat.**

**He's such a fucking bastard for letting this happen to her. To them. Such a fucking bastard.**

**He watches intently as the nurse reappears, checking the IV line one last time before jotting down her notes and observations and leaving the room to bask once more in silence.**

**A one night stand built of friendship and longing, of those feelings closed off in the face of a dwindling marriage. A child conceived from forbidden love. The irony of his baby's fate is not lost amongst the slew of his thoughts.**

**He's loved her for the longest time, certainly for as long as he can remember, maybe as long as his wife had proclaimed. It was instant, looking back on it now. He realises he had battled his feelings, denied them perhaps more often than he'd have liked.**

**Alongside his love for his children, his love for Olivia was the only constant. The only thing he really knew. **

**

* * *

**

"**How is she?" He dares to ask the nurse as she passes him in the wide corridor.**

"**Are you family?" The woman asks sceptically, but he's not offended, she's just doing her job. Just like he should have that terrible day.**

_**Father.**_** The word suggests responsibility. He has been rather lax it seems, when it comes to ticking that particular box.**

"**I'm her next of kin," he swallows thickly as the words roll over his tongue. "Olivia has no immediate family."**

"**Mister Stabler?" She asks kindly.**

"**Yes," Elliot nods, showing her his badge. "Please, can you tell me how Olivia is?"**

"**Miss. Benson is going to be groggy for a while, but she's in a stable condition and resting comfortably."**

**Elliot visibly sighs his relief. His shoulders slump forward and his body hunches over as he exhales dramatically.**

**The lady nurse continues.**

"**I'm afraid I can't let you go in though. Miss Benson has voiced her expectations and she doesn't wish that you be granted visitation I'm afraid, Sir."**

**Elliot had been expecting this since his conversation with George, but the confirmation makes it all seem so final.**

"**I know, thank you for respecting her request. I'll ah ... I'll just go back to the waiting area now. You have my contact details should anything arise."**

"**We'll keep you updated. Miss Benson is in good hands."**

**Elliot looks at the name on the woman's tag and offers a shy smile. "Thanks Sherri," He mumbles before hanging his head and turning in the direction of the rest of the group congregating outside the private suite.**

"**Um," Detective Stabler?" The voice catches his attention.**

**Elliot looks back over his shoulder at the young woman with the stethoscope in her hand and cocks his eyebrow.**

"**I ah ... I read Olivia's medical notes. I mean, I'm her nursing care manager and well I guess what I wanted to say was ... I just wanted to say that I am very sorry for you loss."**

**Elliot doesn't offer a reply. In the back of his mind, there's nobody as sorry as he himself is.**


	4. Chapter 3

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

**Olivia sits on the edge of her bed and fumbles with the hem of the thread-bare hospital gown as she struggles to dress herself. Her head is still foggy and her arm is still tender from the cannula that concentrated her infusion line.**

**She sighs, wanting little more than to leave this sanatorium while she still has her God damn mind.**

"**You should probably take it easy for a while."**

**The voice of reason offers behind her, though there's no hint of accusation in his tone.**

"**Come to laugh and point at the freak show like the rest of them?" She doesn't move from her position and the intruder makes no move to offer up assistance.**

"**How are you, Liv?" He asks just like it's any other day, like she hasn't been hospitalized and they're working a case and she wonders how she'd never realized how absolutely patronizing his method had become.**

"**Good. I'm good George. As good as I can be. So ... did the captain send you to check on me before? To make sure I'm not a danger to myself before he signs the transfer papers?"**

"**Of course not."**

**He smiles like a circus clown without a cause. His stiff upper lip does not even waver.**

**She thinks he's going to be hard today, she's already anticipated his evaluation and she's ready. She's thought carefully about her answers, she has a clear head and a positive attitude. She only hopes that she can fool him too.**

**She reminds herself just to play it cool.**

**Upon no reply, he continues.**

"**I spoke with Doctor Mendelson today. He has agreed to let me take you on as an outpatient. That is of course, if you agree to our terms."**

"**I thought you said that I wasn't crazy," She counters, trying not to seem too distressed by this line of conversation. "You said that it was just some kind of post traumatic episode."**

"**Of course. You and Elliot have experienced quite a significant loss. The loss of a child. That's not something people come to terms with overnight Olivia. Some people never get over a loss so profound. It certainly accounts for your actions."**

**He watches her fingers clench into fists, he watches as she licks her lips and bites the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her reaction in check. He's fairly sure that her heart rate is elevated and if he looks closely enough, there's a fine film of perspiration forming along the top of her brow.**

**He has triggered her fear, and all it took was one word. **

_**Elliot.**_

"**You don't really know what it's like, do you George? You don't really have the right to tell me that whatever I'm feeling is normal. You certainly don't have the right to tell me that Elliot knows how I'm feeling, or that he feels exactly the same. I can tell you that he doesn't. That there's no way that he can."**

"**I'm sorry."**

**He apologizes because he's on the right track, and despite all of his training, all of his medical knowledge and his template of experience, she's right. He has no idea how it feels.**

**Olivia stands, leaving the bed and making her way towards the window that cloaks her room with brilliant light and offers a view of the world from this futile glass dome that has become her home away from home.**

**Her apartment might not be much, but it's familiar, she's fitted it out and she's made it her home. At the moment, she'd sell peanuts just so that they might consider her emancipation.**

"**Elliot," She breathes, his name frosting the tempered safety glass in front of her lips. "Elliot lives for his children. They're his world, the only reason he stayed with Kathy for all of those years."**

**George watches her fidget with the cotton ball that reminds her of how far she's come in the last few days, or how far she has fallen. As she does so, he takes a step forward. The first time he's moved since he entered the room.**

"**You've loved each other for a long time."**

**It's not a question, it's plain to see.**

"**Elliot has children," She whispers. "They need him. I told him to go back. To his children, to his wife. I told him that he should be honest with them, that he should tell them things that he would never confide in her." She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, trying to compose herself. "Things that he only ever told me."**

"**You expect Elliot to walk away and disassociate himself from you and his son? The child that you both share? I suppose I can see why that memory would be painful for you."**

**Olivia laughs, choking back the tears that threaten to spill from her lids. She forces the pain into submission.**

"**I was lucky. Some women don't get the chance to carry a child."**

**She realizes immediately, the significance of her very own sentence. There was a very good chance that once upon a time her mother might not have carried her own child.**

"**You mentioned before, that Elliot lives for his children. Olivia," George furrows his brow as if in deep thought and then offers a brief smile.**

**Olivia simply nods, her back is still turned to him and she refuses any kind of eye contact.**

"**So what makes you think that Elliot would not also die for his children? Could that possibly be beyond the realm of feasibility? Olivia?" He prompts again.**

**She shakes her head defiantly.**

"**No. Not Elliot. He wouldn't."**

**Doctor Huang continues to push her, hoping to open her up, trying desperately to infiltrate.**

"**Your son," he corrects himself, knowing that she needs to acknowledge the name. "Michael, Liv. He is Elliot's child."**

**Olivia places her hands on the ledge of the window and looks out over the skyline, pausing to ponder the meaning of the doctor's words. **

**As she watches the new day unfolding before her eyes, she's still not convinced.**

"**You're wrong," She assures him. "Whatever Elliot and I had back then, it's gone now."**

**

* * *

**

**Olivia wanders along the narrow pavement, making her way back to an eerily empty apartment in the city. She slips her key into the lock and turns the door knob, stepping across the threshold as though she'd never left. **

**A brief not scribbled down hastily onto a sheet of standard A4 paper catches her attention from the corner of her eye. It has been taped to the door of her fridge because she's one of those people who don't have magnets, who never really had the need.**

**Her eyes scan the freehand carefully.**

_**Liv.**_

_**We wanted to do something nice for you, so we tidied up.**_

_**Get better soon.**_

_**Finn/Munch.**_

**She manages a tiny smile and looks around her immediate surroundings to find that indeed, the dishes are stacked neatly on the kitchen laminate; glasses are polished to perfection and perched beside the bone-white china. They shine with the fineness of clean cut crystal.**

**The carpet is spotless; and the living room is functional. When she moves into the bedroom she finds that her comforter has been turned down and her bed is laden with gifts and cards, some of the wrapping, quite questionable.**

**Elliot has not been here. Of this she is sure. She would recognize his handy work if she saw it. She can spot it a mile off.**

**There's a box on the floor by her dresser, its painted bright blue and green with streaks of iridescent gold edging. The striking stripes accentuate the otherwise plain accessory.**

**She traces the writing beneath pads of her fingertips and smiles as the outline comes to life for the first time in a long time. It's a box that commemorates the life of her son. A chest that signifies that her son's life didn't go to waste and that she never has to forget. He will always be a part of her, she doesn't have to let go.**

**She swallows the lump in her throat and wonders if it's worth the heartache, if remembering is really within her. **

**Lifting the lid, she finds herself curious about the contents and is overcome with the sight that greets her. She certainly had not been expecting this, the surprise to rival all.**

**On top of a fluffy white bear that Elliot's children had purchased sits a hand scribed envelope. The print is neat, and she recognizes the looping swirl of Elliot's fancy 'O'.**

**Snatching up the item, she opens her bedside draw and stuffs the proffered stationary inside, deciding that she will wait until the day that it decides to burn a hole in her pocket.**

**Elliot will simply have to wait. Because for now, tears will suffice.**


	5. Chapter 4

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**This is for Alison. My shining light. Thank you!  
**

* * *

**Elliot will simply have to wait. Because for now, tears will suffice.**

**Olivia shows up at the precinct the next day, dressed in her sweats, relieved that she even had the energy to be able to run a comb through her hair and bend to slip into her runners.**

**John looks up from his paper work and smiles, though he doesn't rush to accompany her to the Captain's door. Olivia has always been fiercely independent.**

"**Morning Liv. Here to see the captain?"**

**Olivia offers a dry smile and nods. "Nice to see you again John."**

"**Take care Benson," he nods and then leaves it hanging while he tries to focus on his file once again. He knows that Olivia is not interested in the fundamentals of small talk; she came here for a reason.**

**Olivia glances at her desk briefly, but Elliot is not seated on the opposite side of the divide. There's no sign of Stabler anywhere today.**

"**He's out with Fin, they caught a case." The captain's voice fills the void as he approaches.**

"**It's fine. I could have handled Elliot."**

**But the words in her eyes tell him a different story. Like a deer caught in the gleam of oncoming traffic, she's terrified.**

"**Elliot won't be in today Olivia."**

**Don catches John's eyes over her shoulder and the two older men nod their understandings, silent acknowledgment that Elliot Stabler will not step foot into this establishment so long as Olivia is still in the building.**

**John dips his dark glasses and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. Though he hates having to go behind her back, Elliot and Olivia have given him no alternative. They need to try and fix this.**

**Being the conspirator that he is, John puts stock in the old adage – All is fair in love and war.**

"**Come on Olivia, follow me."**

**They make the trip across the open floor in silence. Olivia practices deep breathing exercises she's learned as part of her recovery process. Don doesn't say a word. He's too busy trying to pinpoint the moment that Olivia became so broken, so unlike the woman he has always known.**

"**Sit down Olivia. Have a seat," he says as he closes the door behind him, taking his own seat across the old oak desk in front of her. He collects a neat stack of papers from his inbox and places them on the table between them.**

"**Here they are. Your psych clearance, your transfer papers and the application for further leave with pay on personal grounds."**

**He looks at her pointedly, pausing for a moment before he continues on like he's questioning a suspect.**

"**Is this really what you want? Do you really want to go to missing persons Olivia?"**

"**I have to. I don't have a choice. I can't work here. I'm sorry."**

"**Olivia," He tries to haggle like he's breaking down a defenseless witness. "If this is about Elliot, we can get you a new partner. A ..."**

"**I blame him," She whispers into the atmosphere. "I blame Elliot for Michael's death. I can't work with him and I can't work with anybody else. Elliot is ... he's my partner."**

**Don rubs his head for a moment before he stands with one hand on his hip.**

"**We can make this work." He tries in vain to assure her again.**

**Olivia shakes her head. "Tucker would never go for it. The only option is for me to leave."**

**The sound of the door slamming echoes through the small office along with the booming sound of Elliot's brazen voice.**

"**Captain. I can't see why I should ... Oh."**

**He stops. Dead in his tracks and looks at her. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't.**

**Olivia doesn't react; she doesn't acknowledge his presence, because hearing his voice was enough to frighten her into hysterics. So she sits. Calmly. She doesn't make a sound. She had been so distracted.**

"**Liv." The word is fleeting. He wants to move, but he can't. He wants to hold her, but he dare not. He wants to tell her that he's sorry, and beg her to take him back.**

**The two are so caught up in their own emotions that they miss the captain's exit. It's just the two of them now, their wounds laid bare.**

"**Olivia," He moves toward her, taking each measured stride until he crouches by her side. 'Liv, you're here." He marvels because it's been so long since he's seen her in person, it's been weeks. The weeks merge into months within the depths of his mind. The months become years and suddenly it seems like an eternity since he last laid eyes upon her fragile stature.**

"**Hello Elliot. I was just leaving." She tries to stand, clearly having planned a hasty departure, but she hadn't factored in his intercepting her every triumph.**

"**No. Please Olivia. Can we talk? Please. I miss you."**

"**Elliot. No. I can't go there with you."**

**Her words are firm as she builds her wall, but he's always been the one capable of knocking it right back down again.**

"**I miss him," Elliot proclaims sadly, and it knocks her from her foundations. He's already started to chip at the form work and he hasn't even had five minutes.**

"**I miss him so much Liv."**

**Olivia crumples and the tears begin to sting her lids.**

"**I do too. I miss him, Elliot."**

**He leans in to brush the hair from her face and his heart is thumping. The contact is little more than he deserves.**

"**He would have been so beautiful," He tells her gently. "Beautiful just like his mother."**

"**Elliot," She bristles when his thumb swipes away the first of the tears to fall upon her supple skin. "Elliot, we can't do this."**

**He deflects her insult with a snort and a quick flick of his wrist.**

"**We can do anything together. Anything."**

"**Anything but have a child together. We can't do that Elliot."**

**Pain clouds his features and she regrets her words almost immediately.**

"**El, I'm ..."**

"**You're right," He concedes, his mask of guilt returning like armor. "But we could try? I'd like to try again."**

**She considers the proposal, mulling over the pros and cons that remain listed in that part of her conscience she keeps tucked away, out of sight and out of mind. She thinks about it too, now and then. She would love nothing more than to carry his child again, to give birth to a fresh generation of Stabler heirs. And then her thoughts conjure an image, and in her mind's eye she can see Michael, so clearly. He's tall and well built with brilliant blue eyes that sparkle upon catching the light, clearly his father's son.**

**And when he smiles at her, all thoughts of the future fade to dust a quickly as they ever came. **

"**Elliot," She removes his hand from her face and places it on her knee. "Stop. We can't."**

**His fingers graze the pilling gray fabric and he nods in silence, his free hand wiping away his own tears so freely fallen.**

"**Okay," He agrees. "I'll stop for you. Only for you."**

"**We'll be alright." She wants to cry as he drops his chin in defeat, but she's determined. "We're going to get through this El."**

**He looks up at her and smiles. Hoping against hope that she feels comfortable enough just to talk to him about this.**

"**How about coffee then? I get off at three, my shout?"**

**Olivia voices her approval, nodding like she's impressed by his boldness. "Yeah. I'd like that."**

**Elliot places his lips upon her temple before turning away. But Olivia catches her wrist between her fingers and curls her fist around his arm. She doesn't have to say anything. He collects her into his arms and holds her against his chest like he had longed to do weeks ago.**

**They cry together while he holds her, her cheek pressed into his silky blue dress shirt, leaving her tear stains as a pleasant reminder.**

**It's not perfect, and it hurts them both. But somewhere, somehow, it's a start.**


	6. Chapter 5

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Huge thanks to Alison, who keeps me going! Thank you.  
**

* * *

**Olivia sips on a cup of decaffeinated coffee; she got hooked on it about twelve weeks ago. She realized soon enough that it's not really all that much different from green chai tea. She used to like tea, but it reminded her of the days when she had needed Elliot so much that it hurt, when she was undercover, chasing down tree huggers in Oregon on the other side of the country. There were no phone calls back then, nothing to assure him of her safety.**

**Not long after she'd returned, he'd told her of the lengths he'd gone to just to try and get her back. She often wondered how he'd gone so long without slugging John one for his candid love child declarations. She'd laughed long and hard at the confused look that had passed Elliot's expression and then slapped him for assuming the worst.**

"**It's no wonder Munch goes through his women," he had heckled, "He's too busy getting all the pretty girls pregnant."**

**He'd managed to make her blush that day and he was proud, so he puffed out his chest and proceeded to crow. **

**The party was short lived though, as Captain Cragen had packed them up and shipped them off no less than fifteen minutes into their office vigil.**

**As Olivia warms her hands that remain wrapped loosely around the ridiculously fat coffee mug, a tuft of steam wafts to the surface and tickles her nose and she savors the earthy comfort of home. It's then that she realizes that the memories she has, the good and the bad, they've all been forged with Elliot.**

**Elliot joins her a moment later stirring his mug with the long silver spoon grasped firmly between his thumb and forefinger. **

**She thinks he finds the motion to be soothing because he's always stirring; he's forever indulging in the deliciousness of caffeinated goodness.**

"**I've missed you Liv."**

**Straight to the point as always. Three weeks away won't have changed that. **

**He's like a rebel without a cause, because she doesn't like to think about the fact that she's lost, that she needs him to find her.**

_**Michael is Elliot's child too.**_

**The words seem to retaliate, forming an alliance clearly intent on taking over her mind and habituating there for the next however long they decide to take up residence.**

"**How have you been El?" She asks because it's polite. "The kids, oh God. The kids, they came to see me Elliot. I was so rude to them. Really, I was."**

**Elliot smiles warmly and extends his arm across the booth to retrieve a sachet of artificial sweetener. He taps the corner of the packet and then upends the contents, tearing the corner of the parchment and diluting his tall black.**

"**The kids understand Liv. They know how hard this is for you. I ..." Elliot hesitates for a second, fiddling with the lip of his spoon before he continues. "I had to tell them about Serena. They're old enough to know now Liv. I had to tell them everything."**

**Olivia nods, trying to ascertain her feelings on the matter at hand, but her mother has been gone for a long time now. It seems like such a moot point to have to consider.**

"**Thank you. For telling them. But I still owe each of them an apology. I acted like a crazy lady."**

**Elliot raises the white china mug to his mouth and parts his lips slightly, drawing in the heady brew and letting the heat scorch the back of this throat. He swallows the liquid and reminds himself that the pain will never, ever be enough. He still feels like he needs to prove himself to her worth.**

"**Don't mention it," He says, and he shrugs off the lack of sincerity on her voice."**

**He sips at his coffee and notes that she's barely even started on her own. He frowns, clearly she's not looking after herself, but that's nothing a little home cooking can't remedy.**

"**So I went to see him last week. I mean, I went to his memorial site, I took Maureen with me."**

**He remembers that day only a week or so ago. Maureen had volunteered her presence knowing that the trip would be hard on her father and wanting to spare the younger children the heartache of the tiny granite wall where her brother's name is etched for eternity. She'd rallied herself, fully expectant, but failing well short of the line in the end.**

"**That's nice."**

**Olivia's fingers begin to tremble and her coffee exceeds the rim of her mug and she curses while Elliot reaches for the serviettes. **

"**Here," his tone is firm, he's always had that protective quality and she can't fault him for it. "Show me."**

**He requests her hand and places the cool thrum of his lips against the sting of her dainty pink digits. **

**She swallows thickly around her tepid mouthful and pulls her hand back from his own, tucking it safely into her pocket and acting like that whole transaction had not occurred.**

"**Sorry," He says quickly, withholding eye contact.**

"**El, its fine. I get it. You're used to affection. It's just too soon. I'm not ready to move on yet. I just want to be his mother for a while. Nothing else."**

**Elliot is quick to offer a reply because every time she insinuates that she'd the only one, a little part of him hates her some more.**

"**So the fact that I'm his father doesn't matter at all? Did you ever stop being so miserable to realize that this is eating me up too?"**

**Olivia merely stares at the stark wall behind him, too terrified to speak, too ashamed of the fact that she knows that he is right.**

"**Of course you don't. I've had your back for years Liv. Years. And this is the thanks you give me? This is it?"**

**Olivia snaps, throwing her weight into her movements as the blue mug topples, and shudders and finally stills on the table top. **

"**You have kids Elliot. They need you. You don't need me. Not anymore. Michael died. He's gone."**

**Elliot digs himself in, preparing for the battle that will soon rage against men, namely, himself.**

"**You're all I have left of him," he pleads with her desperately. "You're the one I want to cry with, the one who knows the pain of existence. You're it, Liv."**

**Olivia chokes on the steady stream of tears that veil her cheeks, the warm onslaught of heightened emotion almost too much for her to bear.**

"**Please Elliot. Don't do this. I'm not nearly as strong as you think I am. I'm struggling just to hold on."**

**Elliot shakes his head, he's morose. This situation could not possibly get any more fucked up than it already is. What Olivia doesn't know won't hurt her, just as long as Kathy keeps her mouth shut. He can ill afford for Olivia to learn about his indiscretion. **

**He can ill afford to lose her.**

"**Liv, please. Don't cut me off, don't run away from this. It's not going to work this time, I'm not one of your perps. I will still be here in the morning."**

**And then she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and his heart breaks.**

"**I can't do it Elliot. I can't be the person you want me to be. I can't give you children; I can't be your significant other. I have to leave. It's what's best for everyone."**

"**So that's it then. Just transfer out of my life. Problem solved." His fingers grip the table like a vice with no release, the tension cranks until the lever is heavy and the gears are in motion. **

"**There's no other way Elliot."**

**Elliot stands, gripping her arm and fiddling with the cuffs on his belt. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you." The look on his face says it all. His eyes are soulless. He's playing for keeps.**

"**Olivia Benson, I'm arresting you for reckless endangerment of a life, attributing to the death of a viable fetus. You have the right to remain silent ..."**

**Olivia can't believe her ears. What the hell is Elliot hoping to accomplish by doing this? Maybe George was right, maybe he has fallen too. And then it hits her. There's nothing a parent won't do for their child. Michael, he's doing this for Michael. He's trying to prove a point for his son.**


	7. Chapter 6

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

"Fin, Munch." Don calls the pair, his finger pointing at each man individually. There's no hint of amusement on his face as the two fall into step behind their captain. They're heading towards the direction of the lock down amenity.

They pass interrogation one and come to a halt in front of the second door to their left, the one marked as interrogation room two.

There's a thick panel of glass posing as a one way mirror. On the inside of the spacious room, Olivia Benson sits with her hands folded in her lap, her head hung and her gaze surveying the heavy concrete floor beneath her feet.

On the opposite side of the dimly lit room stands Detective first grade, Elliot Stabler.

His sleeves are rolled up to his biceps, neatly, like he'd concentrated on each fold and pleat that had creased as he'd rolled the shirt sleeves past the crook in his elbow and up past his forearms.

His arms are folded across the wide expanse of his chest and the small of his pack presses into the cold, hard wall as he inclines his head to pose a question to his so called suspect.

"What the hell is this?" Don points at the two confined patrons.

Fin and John shrug and look at each other. They've been asking the same question since Elliot brought her in, well over three quarters of an hour ago and quite clearly against her own will.

"Well? One of you must know something. What did he do? Make a citizen's arrest?

"No," Fin offers. "He said that he'd read her rights and that he wanted to question her before you got back. I think he knew you'd kick his ass."

"What's the charge? In case you haven't noticed, we deal with special victims, not domestic disputes, Detective."

"He didn't say. Just put her in the hole and went in after her."

"Did either of you think to call Huang?"

John nods, watching the ridiculous scene unfolding in front of him. "Yeah. He's on his way."

The intercom cracks into life as the three of them watch in awe as Elliot approaches Olivia.

..."I believe I asked you a question Miss Benson. It's in your best interests to answer me."

Olivia takes a shallow breath that the men on the other side of the door hold equivocally while they anticipate her response. This could go either way, it could get ugly, and knowing Elliot, it could well escalate quickly, without warning.

"I've got nothing to say to you Elliot."

There goes strike one. Elliot rarely makes it to strike three.

"You were pregnant and you lost your baby. We know that you refused a desk job against medical advice, but you don't think those circumstances came into play at all? Or was it that you just didn't like the imposition of having to carry a child. Did it interfere with your ten year plan? Did you have this planned from the very beginning Detective?"

The captain is flabbergasted by such blatant disrespect from a man of Elliot's caliber.

"What the hell is he playing at? You two," He turns on his heel, directing the command at both Fin and John. "Get him out of there. Now."

"I wouldn't do that Captain."

The resident psychiatrist has been watching from a distance. Feeling that it's his time to intervene on Elliot's behalf, he does so graciously, moving to stand in his rightful place alongside the others.

"Leave him there. Let him question her. He needs to do it. It's about time they informed each other of their feelings."

Don takes a step away from the window, but his eyes don't leave the picture of his two lead detectives, not even for one fraction of a second.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea Doc? Elliot isn't exactly subtle, Olivia doesn't need to hear that from him."

The doctor shakes his head, his arms folded as he too watches Elliot and Olivia carefully.

"She'll be fine. She needs this; she needs to stop hiding from the truth. He'll tell her when he's ready."

Not really comprehending the doctor's hidden meaning, Don decides to let his professional judgment take the lead, calling off the cessation of the interrogation, leaving Olivia to her own devices.

Having realized his captains concern, John politely delivers his own contribution.

"If anybody can hold their own against Stabler, it's Olivia."

"This stays between us. It doesn't go any further," Don warns them. "Is that understood?"

There's no hesitation as each man nods in turn, agreeing immediately to the terms set down by their fearless leader.

Don turns back to George after a brief intermission of silence and utters, "First sign of trouble, and he's out of there."

* * *

Olivia closes her eyes and tries to gather as much strength as she can possibly wrangle. She thinks about Michael, her son, her child. She thinks about everything she could have done, that she would have done to keep him safe. Though she knows it's not true, she even wonders about the fact that Elliot's accusations aren't nearly as fallacious as they seem.

But her son could never interfere with her plans. She'd have given up her career, left the force long before that could ever possibly become an issue.

"You're wrong Elliot. You were my partner, I know how you work. You're angry, you have four children; it's always the ones that we lose that affect you the most. I have nothing more to say without legal counsel."

Offended by the fact that she's taking this personally, Elliot takes his stand.

"This has nothing to do with my children." He lies; he lies because the truth hurts. "I just want the truth." Therein lays the problem. He's not really sure that he does want the truth. "There's no reason that another should die due to one persons neglect."

_Neglect._

He swallows the word as it dies on his tongue.

"_Where were you Elliot? You should have been here. It should have been you holding my hand, not Kathy."_

He can't stop himself.

"According to the criminal code, another person includes a viable fetus. You were fourteen weeks and three days gestation. That seems pretty viable to me. What did you do, Olivia?" He leans over her now, both of his hands placed on the table top as he hovers like the broken man that he is. He invades her personal space, thrusting his face at her, demanding her respect, that she look into his eyes and recognise his pain for what it is.

Olivia lifts her chin, no longer able to ignore his plea, but the sight that greets her becomes her undoing and her whole body trembles. Had she been standing, her legs would have buckled beneath the weight of her heart.

A lone tear has escaped its trappings. It courses down the rugged path of Elliot's cheek and pools at the corner of his crooked mouth. His eyes are red, his breathing hitched, and he cuts through her like the harsh glare of sunshine light reflects a fringe of shattered hail.

The remnants of empty waste land lay scattered for miles.

"Liv?" He croaks. "God, Liv. I'm sorry."

He can't take it anymore. He can't stomach the load that bears down upon him. So he stands. He stands and turns his back on her, and for a moment, all she can hear is her pulse in her ears as she calms herself.

Before she can react, his hand meets with the harsh bite of cinder, one punch after another thrust at the bleak obstruction that mocks his propensity for possession.

His fingers are bleeding as he shouts obliviously into the darkness that clouds his consciousness.

"This one is for Michael, this one is or Kathleen, and this one," He winds up for the big jab-cross, "This one is for Olivia."

"Elliot." She calls him, "El, stop it. Stop. Elliot, don't do this, don't hurt yourself all over again. You have so much to look forward to."

His shoulders heave as the anger rises, there's so much tension in his body, and the room is thick with the air of emotion. His chest distends, but falls away quickly as his lungs burn and he chokes on his life.

Olivia touches his arm, her small fingers curling around the toned appendage. His upper arm flexes, but he does not flinch.

"She's not mine. Kathleen, she's not my daughter," He tells her calmly.

"You've lost them both," She surmises. "First Micahel, now Kathleen?"

Elliot confirms her question with a curt nod of his head.

Olivia's hand runs the length of his arm, her fingers splayed against his. Finally they're sharing. Sharing truths, sharing grief, and when he looks at her, he knows without a doubt that they're sharing the same love.

Not wanting to wait, not even caring about the cavalry mounted at the door awaiting their final orders, Elliot tips Olivia's face up to meet his and covers her mouth with his own.


	8. Chapter 7

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

Olivia smiles against Elliot's lips. She's missed the comfort of his warmth, his breath, and for a moment, the pain can subside, for a moment, they're just two more people who own the world again.

There's no pain and their hearts are free as they rejoice with the very real prospect of hope.

Elliot pulls her flush against his body, crushing her against the plains of his chest so that he can feel her breasts. He remembers each and every curve like it was yesterday when he'd felt her arch against his weight. His fingers are in her hair and he's lost himself to her embrace.

The good doctor smile to himself, secretly satisfied with the outcome of today's impromptu session.

Don draws the folding blinds and turns his head as a mark of respect, effectively affording the two a lick of privacy. It's out of his hands now, he can do no more. And even if Tucker was to barrel in making a song and dance about proceedings right now, he's pretty sure that he'd be happy enough to lay down his badge and announce that the senile man could shove his damn job.

He turns to Doctor Huang with the question that's burning a hole in his tongue, the one question they each have been eager to ask.

"How did you know? How did you know that he wasn't just going to put his fist through her face?"

"It wasn't rocket science," He replies after a moment of silent contemplation. "I received a phone call from Maureen Stabler last week. She wanted to ask me about DNA testing. She was quite distressed. I managed to calm her and she relayed the relevant information. I asked her to come and see me in person. She was concerned."

"She thought that Elliot wasn't her father," Don finishes the sentence for him.

"Well thank God somebody around here has common sense," John interjects, checking his wrist watch again and announcing his intention to clock off for the day. "Besides, those two won't be seeing the light of day for at least the next half hour."

He ribs his partner who just rolls his eyes. "Just cause you aint gettin' none old man."

Don looks between the two and scratches his head. The last thing he needs is another partnership in tatters. "So what do we do now Doc? Do I just leave there? They're not going to soil my table are they?"

He's not entirely sure he wants an honest answer to the latter question.

"They'll be fine. They won't ruin your interrogation table Captain. They just need the time alone."

Captain Cragen rounds his troops and herds them back to the chaos of the bullpen. His feet carry him in the direction of his office, but he thinks better of it and finds himself backtracking.

"If Benson and Stabler are still not here when that half hour is up I ... You know what," He tells Fin, "I don't really want to know." He shakes his head and leaves the two in peace once more.

Fin looks across his desk at John who is packing up to take his leave, and smiles, mumbling under his breath. "I always picked you for the prude Scrawny."

To which Munch replies, "Big Brother is watching, always watching you my friend."

"Want to catch a Java then?"

"If by Java you mean scotch, I thought you'd never ask, Detective Tutuola. But if you think that our relationship is anything like Benson and Stablers, you're sorely mistaken."

* * *

There's a knock at the captains door, and he looks up from his dog eared fantasy novel to see Olivia and Elliot standing in front of him. Their hands are clasped tightly, to an outsider, the very picture of happiness, though he knows the facade is really only skin deep.

"You two sorted?"

Elliot stares at Olivia. They'll never really be sorted, but they're definitely ready to try and start the healing process together.

"I've been a douche."

He smiles again, his thumb sweeping across her skin, the motion aimed at soothing her anguish. She refuses to speak, having told Elliot more than enough already, and not really being confident when it comes to confessing emotion, so Elliot speaks on her behalf.

"We were blessed with a child. He's our angel." He squeezes her hand, feeling her strength wane. "Before I get off track, because I know Liv here doesn't do religious well, I think I speak for both of us when I say that I don't think Mike will hold it against us if we try again."

"Take her home Elliot. I want you back by ten tomorrow. I still have to deal with that little stunt you pulled earlier."

"Just give me the forms and I'll make it go away Cap."

"Just take Olivia home and look after her. I'll deal with it. Go on. Get out."

* * *

Olivia stands at the kitchenette sink with her hands in the dirty dish water. She doesn't bother with gloves, the temperature is as hot as she can tolerate.

Her fingers shake as she thinks about the prospect of having to talk to Elliot for the second time in the space of the very same day.

"Liv?" His voice calls from the other room where he's seated upon the couch, flicking through sports channels and wishing she would hurry the hell up. "Liv, you can't hide with the pots and pans forever you know."

"I can try El."

He's on his feet, striding out to meet her where she stands with her fingers gripping the stainless steel basin, but he stops in his tracks when he notices the rise and fall of her shoulders. She's crying. She seems to be doing a lot of that lately; he seems to blame himself for her sadness.

"Liv."

He collects her in his arms as they sink to the tiles together. He holds her like he should have done the first time; he rocks her like he would have rocked his son. He swallows his pride, deciding that he's going to be the man that his mother was proud of. He's not like his father; he will not ever be that man.

"It started when I joined the Marines," He says as he strokes her back, his lips resting against her temple, the hair from her fringe tickling his nose as he nudges it away. "Kathy was lonely, she had Maureen, and she needed help. I guess I don't blame her, I wasn't there when she needed me."

Olivia turns in his arms, extending her hand to trace the lines of his lips. She remembers the way he'd smiled the first day they met. The crinkles caught her eye and she knew even back then that he was going to be the one.

"She'll always be your daughter El."

He parts his legs and she falls into the gap he creates for her body to sink into. He draws his knees up to surround her and she leans back against him as he supports her weight. His fingers drum out a tune on her arm, one she instantly recognizes. It makes her smile.

"Elliot, I thought we agreed to take it slow?"

He picks up the pace of his fingers as he taps out the chorus of the song that they used to indulge in. They're making music together, again. And just like nothing can stop them, they ride the crescendo back to where it all began.

"Olivia," he says seriously, her hand stifled beneath his as they thrum together on his knees. "I feel like making love to you, but only when you're ready. I mean your body; it's not ready for me to satisfy you yet."

"Elliot, you'll be the first to know when it's time. I promise to talk to you about it. I mean," She bows her head and tries not to smile; it's such a bittersweet welling. "We're really going to do this, us?"

"You should smile more. I don't like it when you frown. You're far too beautiful. This is me throwing myself at you, you know, in case you didn't get that." He amends.

Olivia lets out a snort and the sound drives him wild because he's missed her too much.

"I got it, but thanks."

He can't help the way he smirks, the way that his face shines, because her honesty is the only affection he needs to be happy.


	9. Chapter 8

**I don't own them. I just share. **

* * *

The mattress shifts under Elliot's weight when he returns from his trip to the bathroom. He's starting to feel his age, and his bladder betraying him as he finds himself having to empty it frequently these days.

The sheets are still warm, and he slips in beside her, basking in the heat that keeps him alive.

He moves the hair from the back of her neck and sets a kiss to the nape between her shoulder and her ear. She's not bare, because he'd promised to take this reconciliation at her pace.

He pulls her back against his body, her thighs rest against his and the small of her back fits into the space that he creates for her. For all the loss that the two have endured, they're still here, they're still living and he needs that reminder, he needs to breathe her.

She arches back onto him and his dick aches for her. He grows hard at the touch.

But they're not nearly ready enough to resume their relations, though he'd give anything to feel her around him, he's content to hold her, because she's here and she's in his arms and that's what he wants, to be that much closer to Michael.

He buries his face in her hair; he's not ashamed to admit that he's missed the sweet aroma of her musk, and the way that it used to permeate his nose.

He's happy to stay awake tonight, to trace the plains of her face, to reacquaint himself with the shape of her body. He grips her hips and his thumbs stretch across her taut belly and his chest heaves as his heart shudders beneath his ribs. He's going to vomit.

He swallows the pain that lays dormant because it's time for him to be strong for Olivia now. He saves his own grief for the night, when he's alone in the crib after a lousy day of investigation and devastation.

He lies on his bunk with his arms folded behind his head where it rests and imagines the clouds are above him. The image if his tiny child greets him. His precious face smiles and he lets forth the dam that has welled.

He cries into the dark night, asking the Lord to purge his soul, because he wants to ensure that he'll make it to the afterlife. He wants to ensure that one day, he will know his son.

Olivia mumbles something illegible and he's pretty sure that she's having a nightmare because she thrashes her legs and her hands come to rest on her abdomen, the one that should be distended right now.

He has those dreams too. When he wakes, his hands and the bed sheets are tainted with blood, the crimson stain of life. He's always too late to save them both.

Gently, he shakes Olivia, gripping her arms firmly so that she doesn't strike out at him. He lifts the fringe from her face and strokes his thumb across her cheek.

She doesn't open her eyes. To look at him is to acknowledge, and the truth of the matter is that right now, she's not okay. So she turns in his arm with her head upon his chest and she cries. And yet again, he holds her.

They know it will get easier. Day by what seems like pitiful day, they've come to realize that it won't feel so much like having been cleaved. The ache will subside to a dull thrum that will always reside with them.

Better the Devil you know.

He doesn't rock her this night, she's not a child and he knows that she detests the notion. He runs his hands down her arms, trying to calm her.

It seems to work, because her breathing evens out and the sniveling sounds become consistent with the rhythm of her snoring. All she needed was to let him love her.

And he does love her. Maybe he should have told her more often. He resolves to tell her as often as he possibly can.

He doesn't know how to broach the subject of Michael, of trying again. It's something they both want, her, to be a mother to her own flesh and blood, he, because he wants to share the gifts of life with the woman he considers his equal in all.

He knows that she's not partial to affection. Her mother was mediocre at best when it came to showing her love. Olivia's poor example turned into a multitude of issues, the worst of which saw her becoming his partner, right when he'd needed her most. She is his blessing.

He's told her stories of his own childhood. He makes sure that she knows that she wasn't the only other lonely child that the world had abandoned.

His father had been a rotten bastard. Elliot learned to deal with it early, lifting weights as soon as he entered the eighth grade; he was a force to be reckoned with.

In the end, his father lost interest, finding his pleasures outside of his family, and certainly outside of his marriage. Elliot often wonders if that fact had any influence on his own marriage. He and Kathy were doomed from the beginning.

Kathleen's birth had been eventful, born prematurely after he was caught up in a shoot out.

If he'd known back then that she hadn't really been early, that in fact, she was right on time, he'd have packed up and left, probably taken Maureen with him.

The circumstances surrounding her birth were too similar to the events that lead to the loss of his baby boy, though there was never any doubt about the fact that he was Michael's father. He'd known right from the beginning, like the two were connected. He supposes the same could be said for Kathleen, but the day the confirmation had come had changed everything. She was now a Hargreaves masquerading as a Stabler.

Olivia whimpers, just like each of his children had done when they were small. She seems so fragile, unlike the woman he has come to respect. He strokes her back, pulling her closer to his chest, feeling the inevitable burn in his groin as he does so. He has no choice but to ignore it. He can use his hand later, later when he makes a mess on the shower tiles because he's thinking about making love to Olivia.

When the morning comes and Olivia wakes, his eyes are open and he's watching her.

He didn't sleep. He couldn't.

His mind had been too loud last night, so he stood watch over her, over Olivia.

She leans over his chest, turning her head to that their lips meet in the middle, her tongue tracing the curve of his mouth while he smiles, and he knows it was the right thing to do. He knows that eventually, they will find rectitude together.

"Morning Sunshine." She purrs against him, her leg caught between his, the weight of his erection pressed into her hip.

"Morning. How did you sleep?"

He asks because he hopes that at least in part, he was able to chase away her demons.

Olivia shrugs, turning her face up to look at him. He looks tired, and it finally seems to dawn, the fact that he's just as far gone as she is.

"The dreams, they're ... less frequent. But they still come," She tells him honestly.

He nods his understanding and seeks the warmth of her lips again. "Are you ready to talk now,Liv?"

Olivia takes a deep breath and smiles. It's like they're back in high school and he's just asked her to the senior prom. Christ, they're like awkward teens.

He shakes the thought. He'll never be able to go back to those days, he can't start over, take a different route. He has to live the present, both the good times and the bad.

"Do you think we could manage a coffee first El? I work on structure, and I'm pretty sure there's no way for us to do this by the book. I need to build myself up first."

"I know you miss him. I do too. He's the first thing to cross my mind when I wake and ..."

"And the last before you go to bed?"She surmises.

Elliot shakes his head.

"No. More often than not I don't make it to bed. And when I do, I don't sleep," He admits, hanging his head so that she can't see the shame in his eyes.

"Don't hide from me Elliot." She takes his hand in hers and her fingers tremble as she wraps them around his thick digits. "We're in this together. We'll figure it out."


	10. Chapter 9

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

"Thanks for helping me clean my desk out, El."

He hands her another folder, one with a brilliant blue logo, and looks back to the pile that she seems to have racked up over the years spent by his side.

"That's what partners are for."

And while once, even not so long ago, that would have been true; they're not partners any more. She's moving on, finally leaving him with his bitterness and resignation. She's traveling to see the new, opening new doors while still leaving the one behind her ajar. She leaves a part of herself behind, because all he has to do is shut his eyes.

"Elliot, we just spent the morning discussing this. If this is going to work, I mean us, then there's no way we can work together."

"You'll always be my partner," He tells her, and then he smirks with satisfaction. "Besides, you'd probably distract me from my work if you stayed here. How would I get any work done? Cragen would have me by the balls."

Olivia rolls her eyes and continues to rummage through her desk draw for errant pens and half-chewed caps, and sticks of gum that had gone without a second thought.

"I didn't realize how easy it was to accumulate so much crap."

"Have you seen what's lurking in my draw?"

He asks because he's trying to lighten the mood, trying to get her to realize that the world is not going to come to an end because she has to relocate to another department. He'd much rather wake up in her bed than having her hover over his bunk every morning, pretending that she doesn't go weak at the sight of him.

_Slow it down, Stabler. _He folds his arms across his chest and assumes a pose that belays his obvious aching need for her. He's here to support her, and not in an official capacity, though the thought of goodbye upon their conjoined desk tops is very tempting to say the least.

He groans, pushing the thought from his mind and his dick.

Olivia is suspiciously quiet. He can see the gears grinding but he can't seem to keep up with the pace of her thoughts. He knows that there's a terrible physical chasm that accompanies the emotional rite of passage. For too long he had concealed his own shadows and severely restricted his personal desires and affection for those nearest to him. He'd been searching for his key, the key that would free him from his darkest prison, devoid of any light, reality without a meaning.

"Penny for your thoughts, Liv?"

Her hands hover on the coffee mug and for a moment, just a brief moment; she's lost in the rapid free-fall of her imagination.

"He would have had your eyes you know, big blue ones that you just can't say no to."

Elliot finds himself smiling again. He knows that he's getting better because once upon a time, he didn't really have much to live for let alone smile about. The lines around his eyes lift like a vintage fabric that has managed to weather the storm. His face displays the strength of character that she's always known, because he hides his pain like it's a true test of will.

Like a fingerprint, Elliot is unique and he has a reputation.

"Yeah well, he would have inherited your streak of stubbornness," He says, plucking a tattered Polaroid from her fingers and placing it next to the others that embellish his side of the finely polished hardwood furniture.

She gives him a questioning look and he counters with his own before he steps back to admire the handiwork.

Maureen and Kathleen, Elizabeth and Richard all smile back at him. There's a sepia print in the frame balanced next to the one with the children. Tiny limbs formed like buds are barely recognizable and the profile enhances the perfectly sculpted little nose and rose-bud lips of their child. Next to his son rests Olivia. The picture is old and the edges of the snapshot are frayed, he remembers, vaguely, that she'd used it as a book mark once before. But now, she belongs here, in her rightful place, a part of his family.

"I'll get a frame," He assures her as she snatches a glance over the length of his broad shoulder.

The picture of Michael is new. She hasn't seen it here before, so proudly displayed upon his desk, and she wonders what he really had gone through while he was without her.

She's in awe of his courage, she hasn't had the energy to reciprocate his actions just yet, and she still wants to keep him right where she needs him. She wants to make sure that she can keep him safely wrapped up in the trappings of her heart.

Somebody clears their throat behind them and Olivia and Elliot both turn to see his ex-wife standing in the space before them. She's nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot, and the twitch in her hand does not go unnoticed by Elliot.

"Kathy."

"Hi El." She turns to Olivia. "Hello Olivia. I'm sorry, I didn't know that you were going to be here. I can come back another time."

Olivia steps away from Elliot and smiles politely, offering the two a moment of peace to converse like adults. "It's okay; I was just about to go to the bathroom anyway."

Sensing her hesitation, Elliot brushes his hand across the small of her back. If he notices the awkwardness on Kathy's face, it clearly doesn't bother him as he stands tall next to Olivia.

"It's nothing terribly important," Kathy tells them. "I just wanted to speak to Elliot about the children."

_Well, that's not so much of a lie. She does want to discuss children with Elliot, just none that have been born as of yet._

Elliot bends to place his lips against Olivia's the velvet caress of her mouth is intoxicating and his nostrils flare as he inhales her scent and for the first time in her life, Kathy doesn't balk like she used to, because she knows now. She knows that Olivia is good for Elliot. She only hopes that her news won't put an almighty dent in their plans.

Elliot watches Olivia leave before he escorts Kathy to the bench in the lobby. The least he can do is offer her a seat.

"So, which one was it this time?" Elliot asks as he sits beside his onetime bride.

"Actually, the kids are fine, El. But I do need to talk to you."

Elliot seems confused. He could have sworn that she'd mentioned the children. "Okay, but I thought you said ..."

"I did. I did, Elliot. But, well, I just needed to speak to you. It's important. Please, hear me out."

"Kathy, you didn't have to come all the way down to the precinct. You have my cell number."

"I had to do this in person."

Christ, he's nervous now. His palms are sweating. The last time she had something important to tell him in person was when she was leaving him, the time before that she had told him she was pregnant with the twins. He swallows thickly.

"What's this about?"

Kathy scratches her forehead and decides just to let him know.

"Do you remember, the day that Liv lost the baby, that night when you came to the house?"

He'd stayed the night, he'd been drinking and was in no fit state to make it home more less make it home alive. Olivia had seen that he was tossed out of her hospital suite, and he couldn't sit down in the cafeteria all night, they'd probably have considered it loitering, so he'd gone to the one place he could seek some solace, with his children, he knew that Kathy would understand.

"I remember enough."

"Do you remember what you asked me? What happened after that?"

He remembered alright. He'd been hurting, he'd lost so much, it had seemed like there was no other way, the circumstances were out of his hands, and God wasn't helping, no matter how much he'd prayed that fateful day. All he could do was take matters into his own trembling hands.

"Kathy, I was drunk when I propositioned you. I was mad with grief, what happened, it was ... I'm sorry, but it meant nothing. I needed to find answers, I thought I needed you to help, but it was a mistake. I had no right."

"Elliot," He watches as she folds her hands in her lap, her thumbs resting one on top of the other. "Have you told Olivia what happened yet? Did you discuss it with her?"

"Jesus, Kathy, you know that's not something I could have told her, I still can't tell her. It will break her heart."

Why is she bringing this up now? They'd agreed to forget that it had ever happened. She'd given him her word that she'd never reveal his one moment of weakness.

"Elliot, you need to tell Olivia. It's important."

"What's going on Kathy? What have you done?"

"Elliot, you need to tell Olivia what happened, because ..." Kathy turns her head to the floor, so ashamed. She'd hurt him once, and he'd never forgive her, but hurting him twice, that was like the nail in the coffin. "Elliot, I think I might be pregnant."

The fallout from her words means that neither is taking enough notice to realize that Olivia is standing just across the hall, well within earshot. Kathy catches her reflection in the glass doors behind her and gasps at the haunted expression that passes over her ex-husbands partner's sullen face before she turns around and leaves.

"Olivia, wait. Let me explain."

Before Elliot has a chance to react though, the doors of the lift are closing in his face and Olivia is walking away from him once again.


	11. Chapter 10

**I don't own them. I just share. **

**

* * *

**

Kathy follows Elliot, like a lamb to the slaughter; she trails him, pleading with begging hands and a bleeding heart.

"Elliot, just let Olivia go. There's nothing you can do. Just talk to me, please; for once in your life would you just talk to me?"

Elliot turns on his ex-wife, for every minute that he's here; he's slowly losing out on happiness. He can't be reasonable at a time like this. He opens his mouth and shuts his eyes, bile rising quickly to the top of his mouth and he can taste it, like bitter wine.

"Why would you do that to me?" He spits, breathing deeply while a gaping abyss yawns staunchly below him. He hopes to God that it swallows him up.

"Elliot, would you stop."

Kathy pulls on his arm, her grip is firm, but she knows of his training, that he's been a Marine, that it really wouldn't be so hard for him to subject her to damage without any wind of doubt. He's always had a temper.

Physical contact had always worked with Elliot, because as she tugs a little he begrudgingly comes to a round-about halt.

"Did you do it to piss me off Kathy? Is that why you did it? Or did you do it just to get back at Olivia? Wasn't it enough that you gave me four children? You just had to rub her loss in a little more by having another?"

"You know that's not true. I know how much she wanted to have that baby. I know. I can't even imagine what it's like for either of you. But Elliot, if I am pregnant, I'm going to have this baby. You need to be aware of that."

He stands, so utterly defeated, pushed and tormented, unarmed against the truth. It took two moments just to bring him down, two words to destroy him; such disappointed passion will always leave an alluring scar.

He can do nothing but gape. He can't stop her. Kathy is no longer his wife; he has no say and very little pulling power. Her religion commands birth.

Elliot nods. Right now, he just wants to be with Olivia.

"Okay, Kathy. I'll talk to Liv. I'll tell her."

"I'm sorry El, I really am. We should have been more careful."

The look on Olivia's face replays on a loop feed, and suddenly he feels dizzy, he can't lose her, Olivia, he can't lose her because of something that's as trivial as Kathy's pregnancy. It's nothing, it's obsolete, and he presses the heels of hands into his eye sockets, scrubbing at his face and feeling like it's hopeless.

He should be there with her, he should be holding her, listening to her breathy sobs while she whimpers into his chest and he presses his face into the crook of her neck and inhales her so that she keeps him alive while the anguish in his chest sustains them both.

Kathy's still standing beside him, still waiting for some kind of reaction, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Elliot is far too calm.

"Let me know how you get on," He says suddenly. "I have to go."

She knows where he's going and this time, she doesn't try to stop him. She's never been able to stop him from going to her. She decides that if Elliot can't sort this mess out, she'll talk to Olivia, she'll make sure that she understands that Elliot had been hurting. He was defenseless. That despite what has happened; he'd only had Olivia on his mind.

Kathy stands in the corridor, footsteps echoing around her, the commotion of the New York City Police Department is like white noise in the background. She looks around, surrounded by familiarity and she knows that it's her past, that her future lies within her womb now. It's time for her to move on. She has her children, and Elliot, he has Olivia.

* * *

"Olivia," Elliot knocks on the door with the ball of his fist. "Liv, please, open the door."

He knows that she's inside the apartment, he'd pressed his ear to the door and heard her shuffle, trying in vain not to make too much sound, trying to get him to give up and walk away. She doesn't want to hear him out, and he doesn't want a repeat of her time spent in hospital. She's on the straight and narrow; she has a focus in mind. They'd spoken of it only this morning. It seems like so much time has elapsed since Kathy dropped the bomb that saw his life disintegrate before his eyes.

Olivia had agreed that they would wait before trying again, that this time, they would do it properly. They'd establish themselves as a couple, so much more than mere lovers who fucked when the chips were down and the timing was right.

And now Kathy's pregnant. Again. Kathy, the woman who bore him four children is pregnant again. The timing could not have played out any worse than it has and he hates himself right now, but he has to explain. She has to know what this baby means to him.

Christ, he just wants to touch her, he wants to remember the way that her hands feel upon his flesh, the way that her fingers curve around his biceps as he leans over her and how her body feels as it's pressed against his, skin on skin, man and woman and love on love.

He wraps a little harder, and he doesn't really care if it takes the skin from his knuckles and he bleeds out like a pitiful fool. He needs to get through to her; he'll break down the door and then call it in as a case gone wrong. It wouldn't be the first time his foot has gone through the motion of taking down a barrier that stood in his way.

"I know you're in there, Olivia. Open the damn door."

Her voice, so small, slips beneath the crack of the door frame and heals his heart with a soothing tongue.

"I'm tired Elliot. Go home. I'm alright; you don't need to be here."

His throat is hoarse from his own verbal assault, but he continues to bellow, shouting like he's upholding a warrant.

She doesn't relent; she doesn't let him see the state that his selfishness has left her in. She must be a glutton for punishment, because Elliot will always hurt her. Oh, he tells her that he loves her, more often than not, but his actions are careless, and now his ex-wife is having his baby, the fifth in a line of a lovely collection.

He slumps against the timber veneer, his head resting uncomfortably against the grain of the door and fingers his cell for a while, thinking about his problems. When had he fallen into lazy habits? Given into temptations and payed the cause for the sake of his bottle?

He'd dreamed of her smile that night, her presence in his life had been worthwhile because he knew that without her the loneliness would suffocate him. He'd needed Olivia and his son; he'd wanted a child, his child. So he went to Kathy. He went to Kathy for the one thing that he knew she could give him, which he felt she had owed him. He went to Kathy for a child.

He stares at the fluorescent digits that illuminate his phones face plate and takes a deep breath before the dial tone is trilling in his ear.

Behind the four walls, the answering machine clicks over and the sweeping hue of intimate baritone fills the room and Olivia fidgets nervously waiting for the words to greet her. It's not in Elliot's nature to give up

"Hi Liv," He's nervous, she can hear the strain in his voice, he's trying to control himself. "I need to talk to you. It's important, I should have gone home that night, I never should have gone to Kathy. But it's not what you're thinking Liv. The baby, Kathy's baby, if she's even pregnant, it's not mine. It can never be mine. I didn't sleep with her Olivia."

The line goes dead, and before long, sure enough, another message passes his lips.

"I went to Kathy; because I thought that she could give me back Michael. I asked her, no, I told her, that she took what was rightfully mine, she took Kathleen from me, and she owed me. I had no right, I told her that the least she could do was the carry our baby, because your body needed time to heal and I was selfish, I wanted our child more than anything. I told her," He swallows, and he knows that she can hear how thick the regret in his voice is. "I told her that if she didn't want to be a surrogate for us, that I would make her one."

Another pause.

"I tried to blackmail her, Liv. While you were grieving the loss of our child, I was trying to blackmail Kathy into giving me back my child. And now Kathy and Jonathon, they're, they're ... I can't even say it."

And just when Olivia thinks that she's heard it all, the whine of the incoming message catches her attention and her legs go weak beneath her and she needs to sit down.

"I told Kathy, that if she had any more children, that I'd get rid of them. That I'd ... God, I'm ashamed. I told her that I'd ruin her life like she's ruined mine. I told her I would do whatever it took to get us a baby, Liv. I'm sorry. I thought about getting Kathy pregnant, but I think I would rather shoot myself. It had to be you. It should have been us, Liv."

What had he gone through? What had possessed her to treat him the way she had in the hospital. She can't begrudge Kathy her child, not when it's Jonathan's first and he should be so happy. She tucks her knees up under her chin and sits on the couch, looking out into a day that's fast approaching night.

Elliot stands to leave, turning to look at the door one last time before he exits the building. He holds his phone to his ear as he walks away and heartfelt words tumble from his lips as he stumbles away.

"I love you, Olivia. I'm sorry I let you down. I'll be here when you're ready to talk. I'll always be here for you, I don't want to lose you, I couldn't bare that."

Olivia's not really sure that she'll ever be able to speak to him again. She's not even sure that she wants to.


	12. Chapter 11

**I don't own them, I just share.**

**For Alison. **

**(The next chapter will be smut.)  
**

* * *

The evening breeze trickles through the porous walls of her tiny apartment and the sound of silence echoes off the scattered ceiling and the murmur of her own exhalation is seemingly muted by the wonder of the dying day.

The room is quiet now; and even the sound of her breath goes unnoticed, like a memory built around pain and injustice, there seems to be a quality of mind that she still does not allow herself. Expectations leading to new discoveries, it's all academic.

Olivia lifts the glass to her lips and sips at the cold juice while her tongue darts out to catch the condensation forming on the rim. Her ice cubes chink and she swirls them around like she's appreciating her finest brandy.

If Cragen were here, he'd tell her to stop, only this isn't a bar and the drink isn't poison in her veins.

There's a knock at the door, and she could have sworn he left a half hour ago or so. She'd watched him through the peep hole, waited for him to descend the stairs and then hurried to witness the slam of his car door as he stood in the street and kicked the tyres for added dramatics.

"Go away Elliot," She moans like a school girl with new shoes and the blisters are making her day most unbearable.

There's a brief moment before somebody mutters back.

"It's not Elliot, its Jonathan."

Olivia rolls her eyes. Can't anything ever stay a secret between these people? Anyway, it's not like he and Kathy are married, as far as she knew, Kathy was just enjoying the benefits.

She pulls back the lock chain and opens the door to him. He seems genuinely concerned, and she stands back so that he can see her, orange juice and all.

"What do you want?" She asks, wondering which one has sent him to interfere.

"Ah, hi, Olivia." He pulls at his collar, feeling uncomfortable. "Do you mind if I come in for a bit?"

"Sure, why not. Come in and make yourself comfortable. Elliot send you? Or was it Kathy? Guilty conscience?"

"Kathy told me what happened. I'm sorry, it must have been a shock for you, I know it was a shock for me, we've been so careful. I mean, she has four kids already, I didn't really want to add to that, you know?"

"Right. Because that's Elliot's job."

"Elliot's a good man, he's a good father. He doesn't deserve this."

Olivia seethes, her fingers soothing the knot that tightens in her temple and makes her head feel weighty.

"Don't bother. If you're going to stand there and tell me that you know how it feels, think again Jonathan. You can't possibly know."

That's true, to an extent.

"When I was in high school, bout fifteen I think, I had this girl. Her name was Susan, and she told me one day that she was pregnant. She was sleeping with my best friend Jet, and she wasn't sure who the father was. Anyway, one day, she comes and tells me that she's lost the baby. I thought I was going to feel relieved, I mean, it might not have even been mine, but I'd already found myself bonding with this kid I was going to have, and the next thing I know, it was gone."

Olivia shakes her head. "It's not the same. You don't know how it feels, you don't even know if it was yours."

"Olivia, would you listen to yourself. Elliot is the father of your child. This is hurting him too. He made a mistake, give him a break."

Olivia raises her eyes to glare at the man who's essentially accusing her of shutting the door on Elliot. What about her? What about what she has been through and the fact that Elliot has been rather less than accommodating when it comes to her feelings? He wasn't even there when it happened.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Jonathan Kent stalks towards the door, his mission completed, success rate, still less than average. He turns to utter something before he slams the door behind him.

"No, you're right. I really don't know you at all."

* * *

"Thought I might find you here."

Elliot tips his beer and turns his head to glance at the woman sitting on the bar stool beside him. He'd missed her entrance, but her presence hits him like a thousand words.

"It's a cop bar. Odds are good."

He slurs his words and they bleed into the next and he shrugs his shoulders and swallows again, effectively downing the rest of his sorrows.

"Can we talk please, Elliot?"

He signals the barkeep and secures himself another cold, brown bottle.

"Sure, we can talk, Liv. Where do you want to start? How lousy I am? Or the fact that you give me an inch and then take it back like I'm going to run a mile?"

"You weren't there. You don't understand."

Elliot chuckles, so low in his throat that it sounds like a snarl and she thinks that he might actually have the capacity to become feral if he wants to.

"Whatever you say, Liv."

"So that's it? You're just going to give up? Just like that? You had me fooled. I picked you for a man."

"Man, human, make mistakes," He mumbles, scratching away the corner of the label on the bottle. "Are we done?"

"No, we're not."

"Suit yourself." He raises his bottle and takes another swig, ignoring the fact that she's still sitting beside him. He knows she'll get bored, she'll storm out and make a scene and he won't be cohesive enough to even give a damn.

"You son of a bitch. Fuck you. You want to run from all of your problems?"

He straightens his back and pulls himself up to his full height; even propped up against the bar he's intimidating.

"You're a selfish bitch. Do you know that, God, you make me so mad, and I love you, but Christ knows you make me so angry, Olivia. You thought I slept with Kathy. The very same day that I lose my son, and you think I'd just throw myself at her. Twenty years of marriage and she couldn't make me feel any better."

He stands now, looming over her, his drink long forgotten, abandoned upon the side of the bar. He's in her face and she swipes at the spray of his spit as he rattles his fury. And then suddenly, the owner of the establishment has Elliot's arm and it all happens so quickly, like a blur and a daze and he's standing in the ally next to the bar with his hands on his head and Olivia rubbing his back.

The tears sting his eyes, because he'd promised to give up drinking, sworn on his child's life, and he's a failure now, no wonder she looks at him as though he's trampled her heart.

"Joe threw me out."

He seems surprised, but the words relay as though it's the most obvious observation.

"Yeah. He said not to come back until you sort yourself out."

Her mouth moves but he doesn't hear her speak. He watches her lips move, and they're plump and her tongue darts out to lick her top lip and he remembers a time when she'd sucked on his own bottom lip and he finds himself bending to capture her lips with his own.

At first, she struggles, trying to bat him off with her fists, and then, eventually, she succumbs to the motion and her arms go around his neck and her fingers scratch at his scalp, his close crop far from restricting.

And she buries her head in the crook of his neck and he smells like he always does, like Old Spice and sweat and distinctly masculine. He smells good, even with the whiff of stale alcohol that sways her nostrils.

His mouth moves against her and she parts her lips and grants him entry and his tongue dances across the roof of her mouth and then strokes hers as their teeth clash and he lifts her up against the brick wall and she wraps her legs around him tightly lest he let her go.

He won't let her go.

When his mouth leaves hers and his teeth graze her shoulder she tries to push him away and he grips her hips harder.

"Elliot, please. Not here, let's go home."

Elliot swipes his tongue across her clavicle and brings his mouth up to the shell of her ear and whispers.

"I'm going to take you home and prove to you that I love you, that I want you to have our child."

She trembles against him, but this time, she does not fear him, she does not loathe him, she simply wants to reaffirm their broken status. She wants to feel him inside of her, around her, above her, below her. She wants to sink into Elliot's body and never leave.

* * *

They stand on the corner of the curb waiting for a cab to take them home, together, _home,_ she thinks.

He doesn't look at her, but his thumb caresses the palm of her hand and her fingers wrap around his hand and she grips it tightly in her own.

She's nervous, and she knows that he knows, but he doesn't let on.

They're going to do this slowly; they're going to take it one step, one foot in front of the other at a time because they owe it to themselves. They could have tried sooner, she could have tried years ago when he was still with Kathy and the well of marriage had all but dried up. But she didn't, and she realizes that she hadn't done it then, because now is their time.


	13. Chapter 12

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Here be smuts. Enjoy.  
**

* * *

Elliot stumbles backwards through the front door of Olivia's apartment. His hands are all over her, and he watches her suck in a breath as the tips of his fingers graze the underside of her breast through her shirt. Olivia kicks the door closed and locks it behind them.

She turns to face him and he's grinning like a fool, fumbling with his belt and his blue jeans stay where they fall to the floor and Olivia reaches for the hem of his gray t-shirt, revealing the cut of his body.

Her hands skim the sculpted belly before her and she flattens her palms against his sternum, feeling the solid muscle flexing beneath her fingers.

She steers him down the hall, walking him through the door of her bedroom, her own tank joining the pile that paves the way to their intimate encounter.

Elliot falls to his knees in front of Olivia, hooking his thumbs into the corner of her sweats and peeling the track pants, along with her boy legs, down over her curvy hips, baring her figure to his scrutiny. Her burnished skin glistens in the dim room, like a beacon sent to guide him.

His hands splay across her abdomen and he presses his cheek against her empty womb and says a silent prayer of hope.

Olivia flicks the clasp of her bra and eases the garment from her arms. Elliot's briefs are the only barrier pitted against them now.

He's not chivalrous when it comes to removing them, there's no pomp and ceremony involved in the simple act.

He watches Olivia fall back onto the bed and he follows, climbing onto his knees and laying himself along the stretch of her body. He catches her eyes and she holds his gaze and smiles, questions silently directed and acknowledged.

She moves closer to him, her foot finding his thigh and he closes his eyes, trying to enjoy the encouragement because he knows that there's a possibility that all of this could still go wrong, that it might all go to hell and he'll be left here, cold and alone.

He holds her, because it seems like only yesterday they were back here, here in this bed trying to makes sense of the world, of the opportunities that were mounted before them. Maybe she wants to talk about it? He thinks he knows that she will almost certainly run from him again.

Resistance is all she knows and he is helpless to stop her.

His body is heavy as he leans over her, his weight supported by the bulk of his arms. His fingers trace patterns on her arms because he literally has to feel his way through this one.

The crest of her cleavage is too much for him and he wants to sink himself into her without preamble, he wants to spread her legs and let his dick guide him.

He dips his head and she takes his bottom lip between her teeth and nips at the flesh before soothing his swollen smile.

He kisses her back and he opens his mouth and he feels like he's twenty one again, living his past with Olivia. She tilts her head back and he devours her neck, scraping his teeth across her collar, marking her like he's come home, like this is his soil.

Her mouth is hot and wet and he stifles a groan just thinking about the fact that he could lathe his tongue along the length of her delicate slit. His hips thrust and he wants her. He's desperate, they both are.

He can feel her fingers against his biceps and her pelvis lifts from the mattress seeking fruition.

Elliot parts her thighs with his free hand, skimming her legs with rough, callous pads. There's a sheen of sweat on his brow and he wants to say her name, but he's choking. He can't.

She cradles his body and he positions himself at the base of her curls and with one determined thrust, he sheathes himself, disappearing between her slick folds.

She's hot around him, he can feel her heat in his bones and it burns his skin and he wants to sink further into her, deeper. He withdraws and pushes his hips forward and this time, she takes all of him.

Together they're made up of lines and curves, of plains and angles. She's flesh incarnate and he swallows a groan that echoes from the base of his throat.

He forgets how to breathe now that he's buried inside of her, so he rocks against her and her hips buck as she mimics his actions. She arches her back so that they're crushed together, his arms tight around her, her legs locked around the backs of his calves as she finds the leverage to lift her body.

Her skin is slick with perspiration and her breasts are pressed against his chest and when she rolls her pelvis and her his clash with his, the pleasure in his body starts to ache and he thinks that he's going to die. Olivia Benson will be the death of him.

Olivia throws her head back and shatters around him and Elliot forces himself back with a grunt, gritting his teeth and gripping the cotton sheets. He can't break until he's broken her, he won't allow the stench of gluttony to overpower him. He'll push her to the very end because she comes first. Always.

She tries and fails to grab a fistful of his hair, but she finds herself clawing at his scalp instead.

There's silence between them and sweat and they breathe the same air. He takes breath from her lungs and returns the favor as she contracts around him.

His chest is tight and his throat is dry and he swallows thickly, gasping for relief, he can't hide anymore, behind the booze or the badge.

His jaw is taut, but he mouth is slack because there's a name upon his lips and he's so sick of trying to hide it from her, so he fucks all his feeling into her and hopes to God that it helps.

And when he spills, it's her name that he whispers and when his warmth suffices and surrounds her, she knows that it doesn't get any better than this. And as he fills her with the promise of a brand new day, he makes a promise to himself, and this time, he intends to keep it.

Elliot is less than graceful when he falls upon Olivia, his weight holding her beneath him, holding her there. He tries to roll, to pull her into his side, but she tells him that she needs the comfort of the weight of his body, like a blanket thrown over her, at least or a few more minutes. She just wants to stay here, with him still inside of her and the world outside the bedroom window looking in.

He rests his head over her heart and she strokes his back and they're okay for now because she doesn't want to move and she doesn't want to steal the moment.

He breathes into her skin when he asks if she's alright, his face, his lips pressed into her neck, and he thinks, _like hell she is._

"El?" The tone of her voice drives fear into his heart, but there's nothing he can do, so he tightens his arms around her and he repeats the words over and over.

"I know, Liv. I know."


	14. Chapter 13

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

Elliot throws an arm across his bleary eyes and rubs his jaw. Relinquishing the comfortable position for a moment, he pulls his hand back to see the neon digits of the alarm clock emphasizing the rather poignant fact that it's three fifteen in the a.m. and not the time for a weary cop to be awake.

He pulls the tangled sheet from around his toes and covers her with it, tucking himself into her side, his chest pressed snugly against her back, his hand grazing her ribs in an intimate caress that makes her moan his name and he thinks about touching her more.

Olivia presses herself into his body, the plains of limbs and muscles flush against the length of her own. His skin is cool to the touch now, the damp that was their sweat has dissipated and he wears her like a custom fragrance, sweat and musk and stale sex.

As soon as she moves against him he's hard.

He grits his teeth and rubs her arm with the top of his knuckles. In the back of his mind he's being respectful, in reality; he's testing the waters because he needs to be inside of her, he needs to find comfort in the sanctuary of her body.

The hair at the base of her neck tickles his nose so he lifts the dark locks and sets his lips to the top of her shoulder.

"El, what time is it?" Olivia's sleep addled groan filters through his consciousness.

"Go back to sleep, Liv. It's just after three."

Olivia extends her arm, her hands searching behind her for Elliot's larger palm. Elliot locks their fingers together and drapes their affixed hands over her waist, resting them upon her hip where his thumb can brush the apex of her leg and her belly.

"How do you expect me to go back to sleep when you're trying to seduce me?" She rocks her pelvis to emphasize the point and he tries not to lose it against the curve of her ripe cheeks.

Elliot clears his throat and mutters, "You don't exactly make it easy for a man to ignore you, Liv."

His thumb strokes the juncture between her thighs and Olivia automatically parts her legs. The first strains of sweet-smelling blossom trickle across his olfactory senses and he salivates.

He aches to be inside of her, but this moment, right now, it's all about her. He's going to coax her euphoria with his lips and his fingers and he's going to make sure she screams his name while he works her.

Olivia whimpers through her teeth, "Elliot, please."

"Come on, Liv. Relax. Let me do this for you."

Elliot wraps his tongue around her lobe and takes the shell of her ear into his mouth, sucking his way along the column of her neck. His lips rest against the arch of her clavicle and she sucks in a breathy gasp, trying to keep her breathing even.

Elliot's fingers graze the smooth mound of Olivia's sex and she bucks into his hand and he chuckles because she's never been patient.

He traces the shape of her delicate flesh, working her slit with warm finger tips. One fingers slips between her folds and Olivia becomes boneless against him, he has to prop her up with his weight.

Elliot adds a second finger, crooking them both in a come- hither motion and Olivia spreads her legs further, finding a little extra leverage that she didn't have before. His thumb circles the bud of nerves that seeks completion and Olivia is sopping as she fucks his hand.

She feels soft against his hard body, her rump pressed against his thighs and her back pressed against the expanse of solid chest he offers.

Elliot holds her against him, feeling her body rock as he thrusts his fingers down to the knuckle, he's so impossibly deep inside of her and it feels amazing. Her heat surrounds him and she arches again and again, so much that it's too much.

"Come on, Liv," He purrs into her ear, "I'm going to make you scream my name." He can feel her whole body tremble with need. He should have taken care of her a long time ago, he wonders if he's not making up for lost time now.

Elliot withdraws his fingers and pushes them back into the warmth of her body. Olivia fumbles for Elliot's leg behind her, gripping his thigh, her fingers digging into the stiff muscles hidden beneath the surface.

"Come on Liv," Elliot repeats. "I got you."

He presses his thumb into her clit and she contracts around his fingers and with one last flick of the thick digits, Olivia moans his name and rolls her hips gives herself over to Elliot's suggestion.

Elliot brings his fingers to his lips and wraps his tongue around them. The last thing he wants before he wakes in the morning is the taste of her upon his tongue, her scent like caustic gratification as it pricks his nose.

Christ, she tastes good.

He wipes his hand on the sheet and collects Olivia in his arms, holding her again, hoping that when the morning comes, she'll still be in the bed.

* * *

Elliot's sitting at his desk; John and Fin surround him, and to his left sits the new kid, right where she should be.

Elliot fiddles with his belt, distracted by his state of dress. He's completely absorbed in the memories of the morning when he brought her heart back into place.

The way she'd smiled up at him when he lowered his body down over her, the way that she'd gasped and her eye lids had fluttered and the way she had moaned his name had sent a burst of renewal through his tired body.

"Earth to Elliot," John says firmly, then turns to Fin. "Houston, we seem to have a problem."

The new kid looks at Elliot and shrugs; he'll leave this one up to the old hand, he's not about to get all up in his partners face for the first time.

The phone on Elliot's table top chimes and the trill breaks him out of his reverie long enough so that he can answer it.

"Special Victims Unit, this is Detective Stabler."

John clears his throat before offering the receiver his best impression of a fake British accent. "Detective Stabler, there's a Detective Benson in the hall awaiting your acquaintance."

Elliot glares across the top of his computer monitor and squares his eyes on John who tips his fake top hat and places the phone back down onto the cradle.

From the corner of his eye, Elliot catches a glimpse of Olivia's ponytail. "I'll deal with you later," He tells John, before leaving his seat.

Fin reaches over to clap his partner on the shoulder. "Sometimes you're not as stupid as you look old man."

"Thank you," John tips his hat again, "I'll take that as a compliment my good Sir."

"I wouldn't," Says Fin, "You're still as ugly as you look."

The new kid shakes his head and the cocks it in the direction of the corridor, "So," He says, "What's with those two? What's the story of Benson and Stabler?"

* * *

"Hi," She smiles. "Sorry to bother you at work, anything interesting I should know about?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. What are you doing here, Liv?"

"I saw the Doctor today, El."

The knot in his gut tightens and he reminds himself to breath, that if he stands close enough to her, maybe she'll be able to sustain him. "You didn't mention it this morning."

"I didn't think you needed to know. I can do these things by myself, Elliot."

He knows that she can, she's always been independent, all of the times that she's come through without him, all the times that she covered for his useless ass, he owes her this, this time, he wants to be by her side. She might be able to do it, but he still wants to be there beside her.

"So," He shuffles his feet nervously, looking at the floor, his hands perched low on his hips. "What did she have to say?"

"She said that I'm okay, that if I'm ready, I'm ready."

"So," Elliot rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, not knowing how to ask the question on the very tip of his tongue. "You're ready to um ... what we did last night, it's not going to hurt you?" He asks sheepishly.

"She said that my body has healed. It's a lot different to giving birth, my cervix, it's ..."

"Right," Elliot cuts her off. "So you're all good. You're ready. But are you ready, Liv? Are we ready?"

"I ... I mean last night was good, it was great, don't get me wrong, but I thought we were taking things slowly."

Elliot frowns. "Liv, did I hurt you? Last night, did I hurt you?"

"No, Elliot. Why would you think? Oh. No, I'm fine El."

Olivia takes his hand and her eyes smile and Elliot's heart skips because this is his Olivia, this is happy Olivia and she looks like she's going to be okay. She looks like it.

"El, I'm fine. I just want to make sure, I can't bear to go through what we went through before, I mean, we've barely come through losing Michael."

_Michael._ She said his name without stalling, she said his name as though he's real and Elliot knows that he would do anything for her, for their child.

"Yeah, I get it. You want to protect them. I know that feeling, Liv."

Olivia silently contemplates before pressing her lips to the corner of Elliot's mouth. "So I'll see you at home when you're done?"

Elliot smiles, capturing her lips with his own and he winks. "Yeah, see you at home."


	15. Chapter 14

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

"It's been eight weeks now and nothing has happened," Olivia rubs her temple, completely frustrated by her lack of conception.

Elliot stands with his back to Olivia, his arms are stretched out behind his back and he leans heavily upon the breakfast bar. "Two months. Two fucking months. Let's think about that now, shall we, where does the number two fall upon the number scale? Oh, that's right, somewhere between one and three," Elliot chides, because he loves her, but he's had more than enough of his share of emotional heartache.

He can hear the tears welling in her eyes even though she's on the opposite side of the room.

"You're an asshole, Elliot."

"It's been two months," He reiterates, trying to push the point, trying to smother her doubt. "Sometimes it takes years for couples to conceive, Olivia. I'm old, you're old. We're not in our twenties anymore."

"You mean I'm not your teen sweetheart with the uterus that just keeps on giving?" Olivia scoffs, fed up with his lack of enthusiasm.

Elliot retrieves his bottle from the edge of the sink and swallows down the last of his beer, it's warm now, they've been at each other for so long, but it's a welcome distraction, one he could find himself getting wrapped up in more often.

"Is that what this is all about? Because Kathy got pregnant again, and you didn't?"

Olivia shakes her head, sitting upon the arm of the couch, resting her legs on the pale fabric of the new velour cushions. "I'm an emotional mess. I've been taking the vitamins that the doctor prescribed, I've been cautious, and so anal about what goes into my body, Christ, all I really want is a cheese burger, I've been craving something bad and I still can't get pregnant."

"Just give it some time."

"Elliot, Kathy has four healthy children, and another on the way, and what do I have to show for my life? A shiny badge and some sense of self guided pride."

"What do you want from me, Liv? Apart from the obvious, what do you want?"

Olivia stands, staring at the back of Elliot's head and sighing before she makes her way along the hall to her bedroom. She's tired, and she hopes that Elliot will take the hint, because all she wants to do is rest.

But Elliot follows, because he always has to have the last word.

Olivia is on her side, under the covers, the comforter sits low on her hips and Elliot tugs at his briefs, throwing them onto his pile of neatly folded sweats and shirts before pulling back the bed sheets and joining Olivia.

He reaches across her body, his hand brushing her undergarments as he sweeps his broad palm across her clothed sex.

"Elliot," She pulls back, trying to hinder his progress, "What the hell are you doing?"

"You want to have a baby," He sniffs, offended, "So I'm going to give you one."

Elliot snaps the elastic of her panties and his fingers find her sopping folds, he trails his knuckle across the swollen flesh and with the tip of his thick finger finds her wet entrance.

Olivia clamps down on his finger and Elliot rolls her so that she's lying on her back. She draws up her knees and lets out a moan trickle from her trembling lips.

With his dick in his hand, Elliot strokes himself from base to tip, the thick beads of moisture that settle on the head of his cock glisten and he grips her knees and opens her legs to his smooth penetration. And then he moves. Rocking his body back and forth as he builds momentum and his calves flex and his legs strain and he thrusts harder.

Olivia grasps for the bed sheet, lacing her fingers between the cool cotton as the burning sensation in her thighs takes hold of her body and all she can do is meet Elliot blow for blow. Her hips jerk and she arches off the bed as Elliot sinks into her, deeper than he had the stroke before.

Their skin sticks together and her cheeks are flushed but he's determined to fuck this baby into existence.

"Elliot?"

He's not listening. He grits his teeth and clamps his jaw and she watches him from hooded lashes as he slams her body down onto the mattress again, his hips working frantically as he raises her leg so that it rests on his hip and he can push forward with his hard, slick body.

Elliot catches her sensitive nub with his thumb and circles her clit and Olivia's eyes flutter shut as she moans his name again.

Her body is so soft, her skin is damp against his cheek and he rests his face in the space between her breasts and breathes in her scent. Sweat and vanilla essence that permeates his being and wraps itself around his senses, like a trail that will always lead him back to her.

He can feel her walls contract around him, and his concentrations wanes, and his brow is furrowed and slick with a thin film of sweat.

She's close.

Elliot throws all of his weight into his actions and his body moves erratically, cradled between Olivia's thighs. He rests the bulk of his frame upon solid, sturdy arms as he leans over her, panting and grunting as he forces his body to submit to his punishment.

Olivia grips the hard muscles in Elliot's arm and they yield beneath her fingertips as she molds her hand around his bicep, her thumb stroking the weathered skin against the palm of her hand.

"El, so close."

She confirms his train of thought and her body stiffens and she arches into his chest and he can feel her knees tremble as they sit against the length of his shapely frame.

And when she's ready he fills her womb with warmth that spreads and hangs his head so that she can't see his face because he's so ashamed of what he has become.

"Elliot, look at me," Olivia continues to rub the length of his arm, but elicits no response. Elliot's breath is laboured and his shoulders heave as he struggles to catch his breath.

"Liv," He looks up at her, and the emotion dancing through the depths of his blue eyes breaks her heart. "Liv, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have."

Even though Elliot plays his cards close to his chest, she knows where he's at when it comes to this commitment, she knows that he wants this baby just as much as she does, and she affords him such frustration.

Elliot tries to pull away from her, but Olivia hold him firmly in place, not wanting to lose the comfort of his weight, not wanting to open herself up to the empty sensation of losing him.

"It's okay, I know, I know," She soothes his pain.

Elliot rests his head above her heart and she can feel the tears that burn her skin. She squeezes his shoulder and strokes his head with her free hand; she knows that the nameless, faceless children are the ones who get to him the most.

Elliot finds the strength to calm himself because he can't be weak in front of her, not Olivia, not when she depends on him.

"She was ten," He tells her. He's found his voice again, and it's hoarse but it's steady, his accent is thick. "And when I saw her, it just reminded me of everything we've lost, everything we have to lose, Liv."

"I miss him too," Olivia whispers. "More than you realise, Elliot."

"We'll get pregnant again, Liv. We have to. I won't let this pass you by, so help me; I'll do whatever it takes."

Olivia nods, she can't have this conversation again. She knows that Elliot has his faith, but sometimes, she's not so sure that this will happen. She's come to accept that she might never be a mother.

"Tell me more about your victim."

"No," He shakes his head against her breast. "Not now, not like this."

"You're a good cop, El. You've been playing this game longer than I have; you survived."

"I had my kids, I could come home to them, tuck them into bed, watch them breathe as they slept at night, even when Kathy and I fought, I knew that I had my kids."

"They're good kids."

Elliot chuckles and his chest rumbles and Olivia feels like she can't wipe the smirk from her face because he's far too repressed, he just needs to let it all out. It makes her toes curl, the sound of his smile, and the joy of his angst.

"Even Dickie?" He asks, "Even though my son is just as arrogant as me?"

"Somebody has to carry on the Stabler charm," She swallows thickly, surprised by the fact that her eye's don't water and she manages to hold it together. Maybe she is making progress.

She holds him while he nuzzles the column of her neck; his eyes are weary and she asks him to close them, tells him to go to sleep, and he does.

She continues to stroke his head, afraid to close her own eyes, listening to the rhythm of his breathing as he inhales and exhales, counting each breath before she forgets where she left off and has to start all over again.

She can't tell him that every time she closes her eyes, every time she goes to sleep, a baby cries. So she stays awake and watches him sleep, helpless to save Elliot from his dreams, powerless to save herself from her own.


	16. Chapter 15

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Been a while.**

* * *

"IVF? You want me to invest in something that might not even take?" Olivia asks her gynecologist, her head cocked to the side, her brow furrowed deeply in thought. "You want me to have a test tube baby even though we know that I can conceive?"

"Liv," Elliot turns his head to look at her, the veins in his neck tight as he tries to hold back his obvious anxieties.

"No," She throws across the arm rests nestled between them. "This is obviously your fault, we know that I can get pregnant, it has to be something to do with you. You're not as young as you used to be."

Elliot blinks and looks straight back across the desk at the doctor sitting quietly, observing the display of frustration. Elliot's eyes plead for intervention.

"Olivia, Elliot has four children. The two of you have achieved successful implantation. These things do take time, and in some cases, you just need a little push in the right direction."

Olivia turns her face down and scrunches her eyes shut, her hand comes up to rub the bridge of her nose and she inhales deeply through her mouth.

"So what you're saying is that this is my entire fault?"

The onus of blame lingers like a stale cloud of judgment, a simple twist of fate so cruel. Just one damned thing after another.

"Biology is not as simple as the purists would have us believe, Olivia. This kind of delay is through no fault of your own, and there's really no need to lash out at Elliot, he's just as frustrated as you are, Sweetheart."

Elliot scrubs his hand across his tight jaw, considering the doctor's words carefully before he speaks.

"I want Olivia to carry our child. I don't really care how it happens; it just has to happen."

Olivia can't bear to look at Elliot. The pressure is too much, the slew of temporary failures still sting and her heart is too fragile to sustain the load. No matter how tough she is, she can still be overthrown by this, because the sorrow crushes her heart and the bitterness stains her soul.

And when she doesn't react to his proposal, Elliot wraps his fingers around her wrist and speaks firmly, his words aimed directly at Olivia.

"A baby, Liv. There's no question in my mind. This is the way that it has to be."

Again, Olivia refuses to acknowledge his plea and the silence, like spiteful words, aches more than anything she could have said to him.

All but having given up on Olivia, at least for now, Doctor Monroe removes her glasses and turns towards Elliot, commanding his attention.

"I'm going to make an appointment for you and Olivia to speak to a colleague of mine; he works with couples like yourselves all the time. I think he might be able to help."

"A fertility specialist?" Elliot asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"No, he's as psychologist; he specializes in couple's therapy…"

"You want us to see a shrink?"

"I think it will help, yes."

Elliot is on the defense, ready to attack because he feels duty bound.

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

* * *

Olivia sifts through the brochures as she sits in the car, her head lolling in the palm of her hand as her elbow rests upon her knee.

"Maybe we should have to counseling," She says finally, though it's barely a whisper.

"I don't talk to Huang, what makes you think I'm going to talk to this quack?"

"What you said, when you were talking to Doctor Monroe, is it true?"

He's not sure what she's talking about, he'd done a lot of talking.

"Can you be a bit more specific?"

Olivia sighs.

"You said that you don't care how it happens, just, that is has to happen."

Elliot shrugs. He knows the pain of losing a child, he knows the feeling of weight that settles upon his heart as he carried the grief with him at all times.

"I love you. I'm not sure what you expect me to say."

"This isn't work, Elliot. We're not dealing with a serial rapist who likes to torture delinquents. We're not counting bodies or waiting at the morgue for a time of death. This is us, and we're discussing the possibility of having a child. I think we should talk to the psychologist."

Elliot sits at the red light, his hands gripping the steering wheel firmly, the indicator blinking with the knowledge that he's about to make a right hand turn and suddenly he looks across the center console at Olivia.

"Okay," He says, "We'll do it."

* * *

Elliot takes his place on the white leather lounger beside Olivia. He removes his suit jacket and drapes it over the arm of the chair. He rolls his sleeves carefully up past his elbow and adjusts his belt as he finally sits.

His holster is prominent, his gun sits just above his hip and his badge is clipped to the opposite side.

The first thing Brian notices about Elliot is the fact that he likes to make himself known. He's an alpha male, no doubt profoundly receptive. A classic example, he exhibits his dominance, his status achieved by means of superior physical prowess.

Brian stands and leans forward to shake the man's hand. Elliot's grip is tight, firm, almost a warning to those who try to infiltrate his worldly facade.

"Brian Channing. It's nice to meet you, Detective."

Elliot allows a brief smile, but his body language makes it quite clear to Brian that he'd rather not be here.

Brian shakes Olivia's hand, ignoring the way that Elliot scrutinizes such a transaction.

"As I told your partner, I'm Brian Channing. Pleasure to meet you, Detective Benson."

"Olivia is fine," She tells the tall thin man with dark chocolate skin.

Brian takes his seat and watches as Elliot takes Olivia's small hand in his, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles. He can show affection, widening his sphere of personal desires. Perhaps Detective Stabler won't be as bad as his initial assumption had been.

"So, I'm here to offer the two of you a forum for discussion. This may help in making decisions, help you to explore your options, to look at your responses and reactions, how to cope emotionally, both as an individual and a couple."

Elliot gives a curt nod and Olivia smiles, listening carefully to what the therapist has to say.

"I imagine you're both quite overwhelmed by this experience. Coping with your loss…"

Olivia's back stiffens at the mere mention of her child and Elliot swoops in for the time out.

"Can we start with the IVF process? What can you tell us about it?"

"Of course," He smiles warmly, trying to soothe Elliot's fears. "Well, I suppose the main aspect to consider is both your age and Olivia's age. Assisted reproductive therapy has come a long way in recent times. In vitro specifically involves hormonally controlling the ovulatory process and fertilizing the egg outside of the body.

"It sounds so clinical," Olivia remarks.

"That's certainly one word to describe the procedure. I read in your notes, that you experienced an incompetent cervix with your last pregnancy, Olivia?"

"It seems like such a long time ago now, it's almost been a year since we lost him," Olivia manages, despite the tears that sting her eyes.

"Michael," Elliot offers. "We called him Michael."

"How does that make you feel?" Brian asks kindly. "Knowing that there's a greater chance that you may not carry to term again, Olivia?"

Elliot continues to stroke her palm, a motion that does not go unnoticed by Brian. He remembers having read about Elliot's other children, the fact that he's a divorcee, and he's pretty sure Olivia is the reason for that, a notion that he keeps to himself.

"I'm scared. Not for me, I've been through a lot, and I have Elliot, and no matter what happens I'll be okay as long as he's here. But my child, my children don't deserve to die. My …" Olivia stutters, wiping the tears that gather in the corner of her eye. "My son, he should be here. That's what scares me, the fact that another might be taken away when they should be with me."

"You know," Elliot interrupts, "The teachings of the Catholic Church fall short of an absolute '_the soul of your unborn child is with the Lord',_ but I believe in the mercy of God, I believe that it's reasonable to believe that my intentions serve as baptism of desire by proxy."

"Elliot," Olivia gasps. "You've never spoken about this before."

"Liv, I didn't want you to think that I'd just assume that our son would be Catholic because I'm his father."

Olivia turns her doe eyes on Elliot, fresh tear stains tracking their way down her flushed cheeks.

"You think he's okay?"

"I do," Elliot says simply, opposing all emotion.

"Oh, sorry," Olivia looks at Brian, wiping the tears from her face."

"Quite alright," Brian comments, handing Olivia the tissue box sitting on the small end table beside his chair.

"It's hard," Olivia explains briefly, "To talk about something like this. My mother …"

"Liv," Elliot grinds out, his hand tightening around her fingers.

"It's okay, El." Olivia looks back up at Brian. "My mother didn't have a very _normal_ pregnancy. It was tough for her. In some way, I respect her decision."

"I do too," Elliot assures her and Olivia smiles.

* * *

"Elliot," Don says, placing his hand on the man's shoulder, turning his attention away from the computer screen in front of his face.

"'Sup, Cap?"

"I just wanted to know how you and Benson are coping with life."

"Good," Elliot nods his head. "We're good. Nothing's perfect, but we're good."

"That's … good," The man in charge kicks himself for such a complete lack of stealth.

"You and the' new kid' as you so elegantly phrase it, got a body downtown. Tutuola and Munch are canvassing the area."

"Right."

"Oh, by the way," He turns to Elliot over his shoulder. "Maureen came by while you were gone earlier, said she wanted to take you to lunch. Maybe you should call your kid."

Elliot tries not to smile, but the sides of his mouth bow slightly and he can't help but give a chuckle.

"Yeah, I think I might just do that."


End file.
